


The Courting of Josephine Montilyet

by gaymer_girl



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/F, Female Inquisitor's POV, I made this as personal as possible, Josephine Montilyet's POV, Slight Canon Divergence, WLW Romance, a lot of fluff, also a ton of sexual tension because that's good shit, also dorian is an enabler, and listen this is just my way of keeping the memory of the whole josephine romance alive, because it's so fucking cute, but a different perspective with my OC, but only for how some scenes play out, changes POVs, dorian and the inquisitor being queer bffs, female inquisitor/josephine montilyet - Freeform, female trevelyan/josephine montilyet - Freeform, i once had it as slow burn and that turned out to be a lie, oh yeah and my OC's name is Alyve, so it has heavy canon conversations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2020-10-21 01:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 63,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20685308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaymer_girl/pseuds/gaymer_girl
Summary: The Trevelyans and the Montilyets have maintained a strong relationship for decades, the two most prominent daughters of the Houses never crossing paths... until the Breach shook Thedas to its very core. Now, with world-ending circumstances, such a gap has finally come to a close. Young Lady Alyve Trevelyan, the black sheep of her family and whom they are now calling the Herald of Andraste, finds herself drawn to the illustrious Ambassador Josephine Montilyet, a woman with deep-rooted political connections and a determination for the Inquisition's success. How love sparks in the face of adversity, Alyve will never understand, but Josephine is making it easy.This story is woven within the canon plot, but certain liberties have been taken to make it a bit more "unique"-if you will-as opposed to a carbon copy of a story/romance we all know and love. This will most likely have smut and suggestive themes later on, so I will change the rating as I go. I tried to stay as true to the source material and characterization as possible. This is a selfish fic but honestly that's what all fics are at the end of the day.





	1. The Meeting of the Trevelyans and the Montilyets

**Author's Note:**

> Josephine's romance is super cute and I honestly feel like if I tried to romance anyone else, I'd be cheating. So here's my silly little fic about a wholesome character. Also, Alyve's name is pronounced "olive," in case you were wondering. Enjoy.

“This is Lady Josephine Montilyet. Our ambassador and chief diplomat.”

Finally, a familiar name. At least, to some degree. Alyve was no stranger to the surname “Montilyet.” Her family, the Trevelyans, had performed business dealings with them for years—albeit not face-to-face unless they happened to cross paths at the most elegant of political soirees. It had always been a quiet undergoing, alliances exchanged through coded letters, but a relationship nevertheless. And Alyve had known Josephine’s name briefly through conversations within her family, speaking highly of the eldest Montilyet child of this generation and her grace and dignity known throughout nobility.

After all Alyve had been through in the past couple of weeks, what with being thrust into the Fade, discovering she had some Maker-given power she had no recollection of, and being both imprisoned _and_ recruited by Cassandra in the blink of an eye, she was thrilled to see some inkling of a world in which she was well-versed. Or, well, as well-versed as she got in the land of nobility. Alyve was no stranger to influential surnames, especially as a Trevelyan, but her own, personal connections to those surnames were practically nonexistent. She wasn’t one for diplomacy in the slightest… at least, not by choice.

Cassandra had taken it upon herself to introduce Alyve to everyone who were involving themselves with the Inquisition, but set aside the three advisors for the cause for last. Alyve already crossed paths with Sister Leliana, an enigma of a woman that Alyve wasn’t sure if she should fear or not. Her face was constantly obscured in shadows, her hood concealing any and all tells, which was something Alyve could at least _respect_. Commander Cullen was a handsome man, decked in a uniform that declared his status to all around him. His greeting was troubled, clearly someone who cared deeply about his men, and Alyve certainly appreciated his seriousness of the situation because _she_ could hardly fathom it.

And then there was Ambassador Josephine, as Cassandra introduced. A beautiful woman, Alyve couldn’t help but observe, with a polite disposition and what was, perhaps, a hunger for information behind those kind eyes and warm smile of hers. Her style of dress screamed diplomacy and modesty, and Alyve knew all too well that was the result of a noble upbringing—an upbringing Alyve had tried to fight for a very long time.

“I’ve heard much,” Josephine said, nodding her head respectfully in Alyve’s direction. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last.”

“And of course, you know Sister Leliana,” Cassandra went on, unaware that Alyve held Josephine’s gaze for just a moment longer before looking to the woman in question.

Leliana began, “My position here involves a degree of—”

“She is our Spymaster,” Cassandra cut in, not bothering with nuances.

“Yes… tactfully put, Cassandra,” said Leliana, frowning slightly.

“This, as you all know, is our person of interest: Alyve Trevelyan. Of course, with the rumors about her appearance have started to spread, her name seems not to matter among those who talk without greater understanding,” said Cassandra.

Alyve bowed slightly. “Pleased to meet you all. I look forward to assisting in anyway I can.”

With Varric and Solas also seeking to aid the Inquisition, it occurred to Alyve that she was apart of a ragtag team of misfits that clumsily yet quickly melded together to stop this oncoming threat. These three, at the very least, were professionals in their field. With them and Cassandra leading the charge, they all might just have a chance at sealing the Breach.

The little introduction vanished as they got straight to business where Alyve learned that people were naming her the Herald of Andraste. Alyve wasn’t entirely religious, prayers to the Maker hardly leaving her lips unless she found herself in a desperate situation… not unlike the one she had found herself in, although this was _far_ beyond the realm of sticky situations she had gotten herself into. Maybe she _should_ start praying a bit more often. Regardless, such a title seemed farfetched to her. With a muddled memory of the events that led up to this, Alyve could hardly claim that she was any sort of chosen one.

Cullen, however, seemed somewhat pleased by it, going as far as to ask her how she liked the title. There was a pause as she glanced down at her left hand, the mark still throbbing along her palm with a power she didn’t understand.

So, in response to his question, all she did was grimace and say, “I’m not sure _how_ I should feel.” Because she didn’t.

How in the Maker’s name did she turn from a representative of House Trevelyan to a damned religious figure when she had no recollection of such in the first place? And there they were, telling her that people were concerning themselves more over who _she_ was rather than the threat that was looming over them with the very real possibility of swallowing the entire world around them. That, or she would only hasten doomsday’s arrival instead of bringing it to a grinding halt. She honestly didn’t know which one was worse.

The meeting was adjourned shortly afterward, leaving Alyve in an odd sort of headspace. She was barely inducted in the Inquisition, and now she was tasked to not only spread the good word of their little organization, but to recruit willing men and women to help them fight anything that came their way. Leliana wanted her to go to the Hinterlands… and that’s where she would go. So, she went to find Varric and Solas to alert them of their departure first thing in the morning. Cassandra would be tagging along, too. Alyve wondered how it would all turn out after such a… unique meeting with the three of them. Now they would be fighting on a strange, mutual ground.

Meanwhile, Josephine Montilyet, who was almost always up to her eyes in paperwork and information, was pulling out all she could about House Trevelyan from memory alone. The name had struck a chord with her, and for good reason. Just as Alyve had recalled, Josephine knew all too well that their Houses had always maintained a well-meaning relationship. Something about having a woman of such a social standing was oddly comforting. While those around Josephine were not ignorant to the ongoings of the world around them, she was pleased to know that someone else had a greater understanding of political affairs. As far as she assumed for a Trevelyan daughter, at least.

Alyve was of basic Ostwickian stock: lithe with a sturdy build around the shoulders. She stood maybe a few inches shorter than Cassandra. Her arms were strong, pressing against the sleeves of her leather armor, no doubt from constant practice with her bow that was slung across her back. Her face, however, was soft with a strong jaw, nose wide and round, eyes a piercing shade of green. Her hair was straw colored, short and framing her face, nicely accentuating her features and dozens of freckles that smothered every inch of her expressive appearance. The startling scars on the right side of her face told stories of skirmishes and scrapes. They practically littered all across her cheek, along her eye and brow, and even against her chin.

“Don’t you find it a bit humorous to know that someone my family is already allied with is our Herald?” she voiced to Leliana and Cullen once Alyve and Cassandra had left the room.

“Is that so?” asked Cullen, raising his brows, but Leliana smiled slightly.

“That’s a good omen, if I ever saw one,” she said. “We need all the allies and connections that we can get. This is simply a perfect coincidence. What do you make of House Trevelyan, Josephine?”

“It’s a family of powerful yet modest social standing. Their motto is ‘Modest in Temper, Bold in Deed.’ Our respective families have been exchanging formalities for decades. They have heavy influence in the Free Marches, known for their connections within the Chantry and,” she inclined her head toward Cullen, “the Templar Order.”

“Ah, now the name sounds familiar,” said Cullen, rubbing the back of his neck.

"As it should," said Josephine. "The House Trevelyan is one of the most notable in Ostwick and throughout Thedas. Modest, like I said, but they have no doubt touched every corner of Thedas imaginable."

“Yes, I do believe we had a few substantial Templars with that surname," said Cullen. "Good, good. Sister Leliana is right—this is a perfect coincidence.”

“If my memory serves me well, this particular Lady Trevelyan is the youngest daughter of Bann and Lady Trevelyan. Those in her stead among her family name are expected to serve the Chantry or become a Templar just as their elders have done before them.” She frowned. “I wonder if she will be writing to her family to explain her current position…” Josephine trailed off. She knew first hand how it felt to have responsibility thrust upon oneself in the name of family and reputation. No matter what, noble families always managed to find a way to burden their children, for better or for worse.

She shook such thoughts from her head. She was fortunate, and she had to remind herself of that. She had journeyed far from Antiva, but she still carried her family’s name and reputation with pride. This was _not_ a burden. Nothing had proven otherwise.

“Perhaps I should write to them for her,” she said thoughtfully, pinching her brows together. “The news might sound more official coming from a third party than her own word.”

“I think you should discuss that further with her,” suggested Leliana. “We don’t want to be stirring up any further issues than we already have. Especially this early in the game.”

“You’re right.” Josephine let out a breath. “Hopefully sometime soon, she and I will sit down and discuss these matters in detail.”

“It’ll have to wait for her to return from the Hinterlands. We need to have our head above water and feet firm on the ground first,” said Cullen. “With some established power, we might be able to use her family’s name to our advantage.”

“My thoughts exactly. The Trevelyans should prove to be useful.” Josephine made a note of it. “That is, if they decide to acknowledge the Herald in the first place.”

“Do you know much of _her_?” asked Leliana.

“Of the Herald? Only through word of mouth. Her parents were far more involved in the dealings with my family. They spoke of her every now and again, often commenting on her archery and travel fixations, rather than following a more traditional pathway. She had an older brother; a Templar who died not too long ago.”

“Was he high ranking?” said Cullen.

“If you do not know him, probably not,” Leliana pointed out.

“It’s not impossible.”

“Well, he _wasn_’t high ranking, no,” Josephine answered. “I recall my family sending their sincerest, deepest regrets and condolences once word spread. The Herald is their remaining child.” She frowned. “And now she’s found herself in quite the mess, hasn’t she? They’ve already lost a son… now their daughter is at risk as well.”

“We can’t think about that,” said Leliana bluntly. “Our concern is the Breach, not family matters. Not yet, at least. As Commander Cullen suggested, speak to the Herald when she returns from the Hinterlands and we have some room to breathe and assess our greater situation.”

* * *

The Hinterlands had been taxing. As a representative of the Inquisition, Alyve had been yanked this way and that in order to ensure the Inquisition’s intentions were known. She also managed to enlist Mother Giselle’s assistance, per Leliana’s request. A small victory to start with, but a victory nevertheless. Not only that, but she also convinced Horsemaster Dennet, Scout Harding’s recommendation, to join the Inquisition. It had greatly pleased Cassandra, who actually commended Alyve on her efforts.

Now that she was back in Haven after two months of back-and-forth between here and the Hinterlands, Alyve took the time to explore the little village and speak with those who were open to conversation. Most people were pleasant enough. She got to know Varric a bit more by the crackling fire underneath the stars. She was able to pry _some_ information from Cassandra’s personal life, discovering that the Seeker had lost a brother, too. It was the first time she was truly able to relate and connect to Cassandra, and they had shared a moment of understanding before Cassandra awkwardly excused herself. Alyve immediately retired to their tavern and sat in a far corner away from everyone.

Lady Montilyet was another individual Alyve had spoken with. She had wandered into a tense conversation between Josephine and a flustered marquis yesterday, and, even though she managed to rectify the discussion in the Inquisition’s favor, felt as though she had trodden on Josephine’s duties. The pair of them hadn’t had a proper talk ever since—Josephine seemed constantly busy. Still, Alyve felt guilty for not bothering to offer her apologies for interrupting.

She carefully pushed open the door to Josephine’s study after receiving permission to enter. Josephine glanced up from her writing to greet Alyve with a surprised yet kind smile.

“Ah, my Lady,” she said politely. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Ambassador Montilyet, I came to apologize for the other day… about intruding on the situation with the marquis,” Alyve explained, dipping her head.

Josephine blinked. “Apologize? Why do you feel the need to apologize?”

“I feel as though I did your job here an injustice by inserting my opinion.”

“Quite the contrary, my Lady. You not only assisted me in preventing the situation from getting any more strenuous, but you seemed to have convinced the marquis enough that he hasn’t sent word to me to reconsider as I expected he would by now. Indeed, your help was greatly appreciated.”

“Oh.” Alyve cleared her throat, fighting a pleased smile. “That’s good to hear. Thank you, Lady Montilyet.”

“It is I who should be thanking you. Negotiations are not always easy, and having someone else to insert an opinion in a conversation such as the one I was involved in can do wonders.”

“Speaking of… I wanted to ask you something else. Our two families—I swear they have indeed met before, or perhaps am I thinking of another Montilyet?”

Josephine let out a small laugh. “You have the correct Montilyet. Everyone of distinction in the Free Marches attends Lady Trevelyan’s summer balls. And while I know our families did not consistently communicate in person, the balls were always an exception.”

“Great-Aunt Lucille always did love a party,” Alyve recalled with a smile.

“I… don’t recall seeing _you_ at any of them,” Josephine pointed out.

Alyve’s lip curled. “Attend one ball, and you fight off invites for a dozen more.”

“My Lady?” questioned Josephine, lifting her brows.

With a sigh, “Sorry. I truly wasn’t one for parties, _unlike_ Great-Aunt Lucille. I got roped into too many meaningless conversations about my future whenever I attended a party. I would usually go to satiate my parents for a few months to a year. Usually, it was some birthday party or some anniversary. Otherwise, I avoided them like a plague.”

Josephine sensed that there was more to it, but she put that to the side. Perhaps they’d return to it at another time. “I see. Well, it is unfortunate to hear that you didn’t attend very often. After all, it would have been nice to have met your acquaintance long before this.”

“Likewise.” Alyve folded her hands behind her back. And, for a moment, Alyve allowed herself to admire Josephine’s presence. She had a sort of calming energy around her despite the serious matters that were planted firmly on her shoulders. It was almost as though Josephine could handle any situation with dignity and grace, just the sort of thing that the Inquisition needed. Sneaking around and facing things head-on, both respective talents of Leliana and Cullen, were important, of course. But sometimes things needed to be handled delicately in order to generate progress. It was almost admirable to have such faith in the political system when the reinstatement of the Inquisition was still so fresh in the world.

Josephine seemed to take notice of Alyve’s attention because she avoided her gaze almost shyly. She sat up straight and pressed on quickly with, “That reminds me: the Herald of Andraste has received several invitations from the curious.”

“To parties?” Alyve frowned.

“Yes.”

“...How many am I getting?”

“Only seventeen this month, I’m afraid.”

"This _month_?"

With a wry smile. "So it would seem."

Alyve laughed hollowly. “By the Maker! Don’t they have anything better to do than to throw parties when danger is staring them right in the face?”

“Perhaps you are forgetting that you have an unspoken influence across the world right now. And sometimes, in the event of a potential end of times, people want to live as much as they can regardless of the consequences. Having you there would be a beacon of hope for some.”

“I think it’s silly,” Alyve said, folding her arms across her chest.

Josephine smiled. “Maybe so. Shall I send declinations to the invites?”

“If you wouldn’t mind. I’ve got more important things on my mind than mingle with gawking noblemen and women. I had more than enough of that back home, thank you.”

“Consider it done.” Josephine made a note of it. “And before you leave, I wanted to discuss your parents…”

Alyve couldn’t help herself, “A little sudden, but it’s about time someone made an honest woman of me.”

Josephine’s hand slipped. “_What_—oh.” She shook her head slightly. “Very amusing,” she deadpanned at the grin on Alyve’s face. Who knew a woman from such a respected family could have a smart mouth? It occurred to Josephine that _this_ was perhaps a reason Alyve avoided social gatherings. She had been so polite in the War Room, so it was a bit of a shock that she had made such a comment. By the look of things, she probably struggled with being her true self around powerful people, which might have prevented her from fully enjoying herself at any event. Still, “This is serious.”

Alyve tried to fight the smile back down. “Sorry. Go on.”

“I’d like to dispatch a courier to asking the Banns of House Trevelyan to align themselves with us. What are your thoughts? Should we approach your family for their formal support of the Inquisition?”

The smile finally melted off Alyve’s face. The idea of inviting her family into her new life way made her queasy. In fact, her parents didn’t even know what had truly become of her after they sent her off on the task to find some way to help end the Mage-Templar War. And what did she do? Make a mess of things.

Like always.

Despite that, she said stiffly, “If that’s what you want, I’ll send a letter to my family.” She hoped, deep down, that they would consider this both a form of serving the Chantry _and_ the Templars. It was on her own terms, but it was far more freeing than letting them rule over how she should live her life. Sure, this… mark on her hand definitely did rule her now, but even she had at least a little bit of control over what she did with it. “They’ll respect the request if it comes from me.” _Hopefully_, she thought begrudgingly.

“Wonderful,” approved Josephine. “That will save time. Val Royeaux has noted your lineage. It gives the Inquisition some legitimacy, although not so much as we hoped.”

“Why not?”

“You _are_ from Ostwick. Orlesian nobles consider the Free Marches somewhat…” Josephine seemed reluctant to continue. So she tried to put it lightly, “_quaint_, if you will.”

Alyve scoffed, and the tiny shred of pride in her lineage surged through. “Orlesians are just baffled Free Marches is governing themselves without an Empress to hold their hands.”

“A peasant might get away with that insult, but not someone of your stature.” There was a shadow of a smile on Josephine’s lips, as though she greatly understood Alyve’s frustration. After all, she had made sure to study up on all she knew about the Trevelyans as soon as she realized who Alyve was. And she had every right to be on the defense. “Speaking of which, I should thank you for your patience with the simple quarters. The accommodations in Haven are surely rough for someone of your birth.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” Alyve countered. “You not only come from a very influential family, but you’ve told me of your own personal duties as ambassador to many, _many_ powerful people. Surely they spared no expense providing you with decent rooms. This can’t be what you’re accustomed to, Ambassador.”

“One adjusts,” she said humbly. “I sleep easy. It helps take my mind from our surroundings. And the cold… and the wildlife… and the lack of civilization from miles around.” Alyve started to grin again as Josephine’s situation dawned on her. She set her pen down and sighed, “Why anyone lived here before we found Andraste’s ashes—I _cannot_ imagine.”

“Well, having a few leagues of ice between me and whoever wishes me ill can’t hurt,” Alyve said with a shrug.

“Do not say that too loudly,” warned Josephine, but a full smile betrayed her. “Chancellor Rodrick is still here.”

Alyve laughed. “Perhaps you’re right. And anyway, thank you for the lovely conversation, Lady Montilyet. It’s nice to see a friendly face through all this confusion.”

“Likewise. And I’ll be sure to send your letter to your parents for you as soon as it’s finished. Come by again to drop it off. I look forward to speaking with you again.”

And with that, Josephine seamlessly returned to her work, leaving Alyve to politely excuse herself from the room. She let out a long breath and began the walk back to her quarters. She actually rather enjoyed the modesty of the little hut as opposed to a large, ornate room that made her feel quite small.

The snow crunched beneath her boots, the night fall bringing a chill across Haven. She nodded politely at Varric, who was hovering around the campfire as usual, as she made her way home. He waved at her in return. She soon entered her hut and shut the door tightly, shaking off a shiver and depositing herself in her desk.

_A letter to my parents… this was the last thing I anticipated on doing for the sake of the Inquisition._ She pulled over her meager stationary and hummed, pursing her lips. What would she even say?

“Dear Mother and Father,” she started slowly, her hand almost shaking with each character. “In case you were wondering, things went to shit…” She grumbled and immediately crumpled up the paper. She tried again: “So the attempt at a treaty got delayed, as I’m sure you are well aware by now. The Temple of Sacred Ashes is… well, it’s technically ash now, I guess.”

Maker save her. Alyve all but shredded the parchment.

One more try: “Hello, Mom and Dad. I’m a terrible excuse for an ambassador but now I’m a religious figure, so that’s different. How are things back home? Anyway, do you mind aligning our family to this age-old organization that recently got unearthed because the sky is ripped open? Thanks. Sincerely, your daughter.”

Shit, the lot of it.

Her head clunked against the table, huffing as ink smeared itself over her forehead. She should have told Josephine the truth… should have explained the slight distance between her and her parents. Perhaps Josephine would have drafted the letter in her stead and made everything far easier in the end.

As she sat there, she contemplated the events that truly brought her to this moment of minor defeat. Her parents had entrusted her in overseeing a political matter as a representative of House Trevelyan. She had failed in that and wound up with an aching power in her hand—a power she still didn’t truly understand and was unsure that she ever _would_ understand it. If she managed to screw up such a task then, how could she properly represent the Inquisition now? It was nothing short of a miracle that she got through to Mother Giselle and Horsemaster Dennet. Even in those cases, she had help from her three unlikely companions: a dwarf that wrote romance serials in his spare time, an elf with a bad attitude whenever Alyve ran her mouth, and a Seeker who had her in chains and accused her of what was essentially murder not too long ago.

When she sat back straight, the paper had stuck itself to her forehead thanks to the ink adhesive. She grunted and swiped it off, stomping over to the washbasin and rinsing off her face, trying to calm herself down. She wasn’t going to get anything done tonight. The best thing to do was to sleep it off and come back to it later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup.
> 
> Kudos and comments are welcomed. Constructive criticism is also welcomed, as I am not as well-versed in the DA lore as I should be. Just be the kind of reader/commenter you'd want to have :) Anyway this is this and there is most likely more coming your way. I'm gonna be posting regardless.


	2. The Herald Is Human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for the kudos -finger guns- appreciate it!

She was in trouble.

Not literally—well, okay, she was in constant _danger_, but this was far different than what she was usually getting herself into nowadays.

Alyve was not proud of the amount of time it took her to write a respectful and legible letter to her parents. She attempted to explain the situation as delicately as possible, and decided to alert them to direct their questions to either Leliana, Cullen, Josephine, or Cassandra since they had more information than she did. There was so much to uncover what had landed her in her current position and she honestly wasn’t sure how to word it properly.

She had gone to drop the letter off with Josephine so she could send it off, only to find the ambassador tangled in her own web of troubles. Something about merchants and lyrium and how it would give them great influence—and of course the damned Chantry.

With the Trevelyans’ ties with the Chantry, Alyve knew all too well that the whole thing had been crumbling for years. That wasn’t news to her. But she let Josephine explain to her the problems that the Chantry’s decline was having across the world. Only two things got through to Alyve. One was Josephine’s declaration that “common ground is the start of all negotiations.” It was a piece of philosophy that even Alyve could appreciate. The second thing was the fact that Alyve’s talent to stick her foot in her mouth managed to shine through. Glaringly.

“How did someone so… lovely and selfless go into Orlesian politics, Lady Montilyet?” she asked without thinking. She was genuinely curious, but the flirting came out all on its own.

Alyve could not deny her attraction towards Josephine. She was, in fact, a beautiful woman. Her personality and intelligence went a long way to accentuate said beauty. It had occurred to her that she was feeling some kind of way about the ambassador after she caught herself daydreaming about her whilst getting ready for bed the other night. She knew that such thoughts and feelings only led to trouble, and, therefore, she was in it. Her attempts at ignoring her attraction were failing, and apparently she could not stop herself from flirting with her. But, Josephine didn't seem to mind—that, or she didn't _notice_—because she got adorably flustered, much to Alyve's delight.

"Well! That is—ah… really, you give me too much credit,” Josephine stammered out humbly, wearing a tremendous smile. Then she immediately continued onto more serious matters, as usual. “While you’re here, I do have a question. The remaining Grand Clerics sent a missive inquiring about the events at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. They demand to know whether the Inquisition officially claims that Andraste saved you from the Breach… if it were up to you, how would you reply?”

Alyve gave pause. She knew that a title such as “the Herald of Andraste” had already ruffled a few religious feathers. Not one for organized religion as a whole, Alyve wasn’t sure how to think or feel about it. Sure, she was raised as Andrastian, but she rarely practiced it. She was reluctant to even admit to being “gifted” with such a unique ability. It only brought her great discomfort and, well, complicated results. If it _was_ a gift from Andraste herself, then Alyve would lay down her doubts and once again pray to the Maker’s wife.

If not, she considered cutting off her arm before it decided to disease her further. Solas had stabilized it, sure, but for how long, Alyve had no idea. She tried not to think of such things.

For _now_, however, she had to make a choice. To either agree with the claims of Andraste bestowing this mark upon her, or to deny the claims and attempt to bat away the Chantry with a different angle.

“Will my answer change your reply to the Chantry?” Alyve asked.

Josephine smiled slightly. “If Leliana, Cassandra, Cullen, and I could agree on our official stance… I could answer that.” She let out a tired sigh, and Alyve deeply sympathized. “We should decide soon. The Revered Mothers don’t seem to know what to make of you.”

“I’d tell the Chantry I was saved by circumstance.” Alyve kicked her feet against the floor moodily. “Not divine intervention.”

"Yet as rumors you’re Andraste’s Herald grow, the Grand Clerics may not believe such a humble reply.” There was a bit of admiration in Josephine’s tone, her gaze softening as she regarded Alyve. It was almost as if she were telling Alyve that she was going to be on her side no matter what the truth was. “A difficult situation.” She bowed slightly. “And I thank you for your answer.”

“Hopefully that will be enough to satiate them,” Alyve said begrudgingly.

“I’m afraid this is only the beginning of a long list of answers they will demand from you.”

Bitterly, “Grand.”

“Do not worry, your Worship. You won’t be going through this alone. All questions such as those will have to be filtered through me. I will do my very best to make this as painless as possible.”

“Really, you are too good to be true.”

After a shy clearing of her throat, Josephine pressed forward quickly, “Was there anything else, my Lady?”

“Yes, actually. Before I leave,” Alyve said, remembering why she had even approached the ambassador, “I have that letter you requested.” She handed over a tightly bound scroll. Josephine gingerly took it from her, those studious eyes raking over the parchment.

“Now, my Lady, are you sure you want me to send this to them? I… I couldn’t help but notice the hesitance during our last encounter,” Josephine said carefully.

_Of course she did_, Alyve thought, mentally smacking herself on the forehead. Josephine may not show it, but she was as sharp and observant as Leliana. Nothing seemed to get past her. “Everything is fine, Lady Montilyet,” she said hastily, about to take her leave and avoid any further questioning. “Send it whenever you see fit. I must prepare for my journey into Val Royeaux tomorrow. Hopefully Mother Giselle’s advice will bode us well. Good day.”

“But—”

Alyve left without another word, Josephine in her wake, stupefied. She stared after Alyve for a moment before looking back at the scroll. She fought with her curiosity, but eventually it overwhelmed her and she carefully unraveled the letter to see what exactly the Herald had written to her family…

_Mother, Father,_

_It is with great shame that I must report to you that the task you bestowed upon me was delayed. Due to complicated reasons that I find too cumbersome to explain, the Divine has been… well, she is with the Maker now. The Conclave has been decimated. The Temple of Sacred Ashes has been torn asunder and this thing people have been calling “the Breach” has opened above our world. I’m sure word of these events have spread to you by now._

_I am afraid, Mother and Father, that I might be partially responsible. I have no recollection of the events leading up to this tragedy, but now I have been marked with a mysterious power on my left hand. It… hurts and I don’t know what it is exactly, but _nobody_ seems to know what it is either._

_Despite these shortcomings, I have teamed up with an esteemed organization called the Inquisition. Perhaps you’ve heard of us. We are determined to find a way to close the Breach and restore the world to what it once was. They say that this mark has the power to do so, but I cannot do it alone. _We_ cannot do it alone._

_Ambassador Josephine Montilyet—yes, of _those_ Montilyets—has suggested I reach out to you and humbly ask for your support of the Inquisition. We need all the help we can get, and political alliances are among such assistance. I understand that you might not want to lend the Trevelyan name to an organization that has recently come out of the woodwork, but… it would be invaluable._

_I am doing what I think is right. I want the world to be okay again. Maybe after all of this is said and done, I will be able to return home and continue with my familial duties that you expect of me. That is, if you’ll have me._

_Please direct any further inquiries to Commander Cullen Rutherford, Sister Leliana, Ambassador Josephine Montilyet, or Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast. They will have far more information regarding the Inquisition._

_Regardless of the situation, I do hope you are well. Lady Montilyet awaits your response._

_Respectfully,  
_ _Alyve Trevelyan_

  
Josephine’s brow creased deeper and deeper as she scanned the letter. She could practically hear Alyve’s awkward attempt at formal speech within her writing; forcing herself to be the patient, well-behaved daughter of a noble family. Such skill was second-nature to Josephine, personally, but clearly something Alyve was not comfortable with. It wasn’t as though the Herald wasn’t polite. Quite the contrary, she spoke eloquently and kindly to all she met. It was in certain contexts in which she seemed to struggle with. And this context contained family, contained social status. Two things Alyve was hesitant to talk openly about.

Not only that, but Josephine felt an inkling of pity toward her. Alyve was placing the blame on herself… although that wasn’t entirely her own doing. Chancellor Rodrick was definitely one of the many people forcing the blame down her throat. Cassandra had even done so at one point before reconsidering.

She rolled the letter back up, setting it aside to send off first thing in the morning. She also made sure to count her lucky stars that she did not have such an awkward relationship with her own parents. Yes, this letter barely scratched the surface of Alyve’s familial dynamic, but at the very least Josephine never felt the need to be overly formal with her parents when they communicated.

A part of her wanted to go after Alyve and speak with her about this before she left to Val Royeaux, but she waved that thought away. As far as Josephine was concerned, Alyve was technically superior to her in this situation. Talking of such personal matters was inappropriate and unprofessional. Instead, she decided to let Alyve approach her with the topic, if she chose to do so.

* * *

With things going the way they were, an alliance with either the Mages or the Templars had to be called forth in order to attempt to close the Breach. Alyve’s mark only had so much power, and they all knew they’d need more. The decision making, however, came down to Alyve.

And it scared the shit out of her.

The last time she had to make some kind of diplomatic move, it landed her with a foggy memory, a destroyed Conclave, and a painful mark on her hand. It certainly wasn’t the _fault_ of the political situation, but still.

Cullen was pushing for the Templars, of course. So was Cassandra. Josephine and Leliana seemed partial to both the Mages and the Templars. Alyve didn’t know who to hear out. It got so bad in the War Room a couple of weeks after she returned from Val Royeaux that she had to plead for an adjournment so they may pick it up in the morning, refreshed and well-rested. Leliana, Cullen, and Cassandra didn’t seem to appreciate such a request, but Josephine advocated for Alyve.

“Think about it this way,” she said after Alyve left the room, “we’re dealing with someone who is not used to making these serious decisions.”

“She is the Herald,” said Cassandra impatiently. “It _must_ be her decision. She seemed perfectly fine when she joined the Inquisition. She knew the risks—”

“She was recruited by _you_, Seeker Pentaghast,” Josephine cut in, frowning. “Don’t you think, perhaps, she’s going along with all this because she doesn’t know what else to do?”

Cassandra pressed her lips together in thought. Cullen however, huffed and shook his head, prompting the three women to regard him curiously.

“The bottom line,” he said, “is that she still has to make this choice regardless of how she _feels_.”

“Commander, that’s very unkind of you,” chastised Josephine.

“He has a point,” said Leliana. “This is ultimately up to the Herald. She’s the only one we know of who can even close the Breach. It all falls down to who _assists_ her, and that is why it’s her choice.”

“We’ve already had trouble with the Seekers removing Templar reinforcements back in Val Royeaux, but we can still save face with them.” Cassandra sighed sullenly. “And we now have the invitation from Grand Enchanter Fiona to meet in Redcliffe and speak with the rebel Mages. We have two opportunities to help restore some kind of order.”

“Saving face with the Templars is crucial,” said Cullen.

“But aiding in the rebellion can bode well for us,” said Leliana.

“Clearly, we’re never going to agree on how we will proceed,” said Josephine curtly. “So yes, you’re right: the Herald must be the one to break through our disagreements. But let us not shove her into making such important choices based on our own personal opinions.”

“Time is of the essence,” said Leliana.

“Perhaps, but our own numbers are still thin,” said Josephine. “We cannot jump headfirst into taking sides. The Breach is our number one threat, our number one priority. We must solve it regardless.”

"You are forgetting of the willing men and women that the Herald had enlisted herself over the past two weeks," said Cassandra. "Our numbers might feel thin, but she definitely took the initiative to bring them to the front lines."

It was true. Not all was lost during her trip to Val Royeaux. They had run into the fast-talking, loud-mouthed Sera, a unique elf with a mysterious tie to a group called “Friends of Red Jenny.” She took it upon herself to enlist her in the Inquisition, deciding that she might prove to be useful to their cause. Her advisors and Cassandra weren’t totally pleased with this new addition, but Alyve ignored them. She also finally decided to attend a party—much to the surprise of Josephine—thrown by Court Enchanter Vivienne while she was in Val Royeaux, and learned of her power and influence in Orlais. Vivienne went as far as to express interest in the Inquisition’s mission, and Alyve welcomed her with open arms.

But that wasn’t all. Leliana had suggested, before Alyve had left, that she seek out a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall. She did just that. He only decided to join after some convincing, but it was a win nevertheless. Alyve also ventured out to the Storm Coast to talk with a mercenary group called The Chargers after they sent word of their own goals to fight off demons. She enlisted The Iron Bull’s assistance after he praised the Inquisition’s tenacity and mission statement.

The advisors had to admit that this surge in agency and initiative was admirable. Thanks to Alyve’s recruitment, more eyes were glued to the Inquisition’s next move, but with less animosity. Her stint in Val Royeaux caused quite the stir, especially arriving so heavily armed, Cassandra, Varric, and Solas at her heels. But it was enough to get people to pay attention.

The small touches of influence went a long way, and all Alyve was doing was being kind and extending alliances that would reach further than any cumbersome negotiation with some organization with only so many connections. Instead, Sera brought with her a connection to these Friends of Red Jenny that were all across Thedas, and Vivienne had friends in high places that would come to her aid at the drop of a hat—and perhaps they’d catch the metaphorical hat before it even it the ground. Blackwall was an enigma, but he had his uses, and Iron Bull brought with him a slew of willing mercenaries with a thirst for justice and adventure.

Despite these minor victories, Alyve was still at an uncomfortable crossroads. She was afraid that choosing one group over the other would only spark further disaster, marking the Inquisition as biased. It was days like this that made her wish that the Conclave had been a success. All of this wouldn’t be necessary… but Divine Justinia is dead, the war raged on, and Alyve had stumbled into trouble, like always.

Trouble, trouble, trouble… it was her forte, the battle cry she ripped from her lungs as she nocked an arrow, it was what cursed her whenever she stumbled about Thedas, pretending that she knew what she was doing.

Speaking of trouble, Alyve was getting ready for bed that night when a gentle knock sounded at her door. She opened it just a crack and was surprised to find Josephine shivering at the threshold. She ripped the door open and ushered her inside the warmth of her little cabin.

“Thank you,” chattered Josephine, rubbing her arms up and down.

“Why didn’t you bring a coat with you?” asked Alyve, smirking as she guided Josephine to the nearby hearth.

“I didn’t expect it to be _this_ cold. I’m usually inside. Anyway, I only came here to talk with you briefly.”

Teasing, “Only briefly? I’m hurt, Ambassador. I thought I was worth at least a few hours of your time.”

She caught the small smile on Josephine’s lips, betraying the sense of urgency. “Please, your Worship, I know you have to make the decision tomorrow morning. Leliana, Cassandra, and Cullen are getting… well, they’re impatient. I understand that this putting this on your shoulders is unfair, but the four of us cannot come to an ultimate agreement, as you are well aware.” She sighed. “I just wanted to let you know that whatever choice you make, I will support it. And I will ensure that the others hear you out, too.”

Alyve stared. “Why did you come all the way here to tell me this?”

“Whether the others like it or not, how we close the Breach is _your_ decision. You’re the only one who can. Maybe not by yourself since we are still unsure of the power you’re capable of, but still it is your power we must rely on… but I recognize that it is not something you necessarily care for.”

“It’s not that I don’t care.” Alyve slowly sat down in a nearby chair. “I just wish that I knew why. So much has happened to all of us in such a short amount of time. And sometimes I feel… I feel very alone.” She hugged her arms to her chest, the mark in her left hand aching. “Everyone is so expectant of me, and all I did was not die in a freak accident.”

Josephine frowned sympathetically, unmoving from her spot in front of the fire, which was crackling too merrily for such a heavy discussion. Memories of Alyve’s letter came flooding forth, and, for a fleeting moment, she no longer saw the Herald of Andraste. No, she saw a frightened young woman who once believed she had her whole life ahead of her, who was barely any older than Josephine, who probably practiced archery for fun at first, and who thought that those scars on her face would be the only ones she’d collect in her lifetime.

If that letter Alyve wrote told Josephine anything, it was that Alyve was standing on shaky ground, going along with whatever others were telling her, and trying to be what everyone expected of her. Something she had to be for her parents… and now it was dialed up tenfold.

“I’m so sorry,” whispered Josephine, taking a step forward. “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s not your fault,” Alyve said quietly, sniffling. “Cassandra has this pipe dream of closing the Breach… but I really don’t know if I’m capable. I was letting her do all the leading, but I didn’t anticipate her to put important political matters on me. I thought I was just going to be the tool they’d use and dispose of as soon as I did my job.”

“That’s not what we think,” Josephine said quickly, shaking her head. “Not at all. You have more than proved yourself to be a strong, kind-hearted warrior. Cassandra has told me what you’ve done for the refugees in the Hinterlands. She told me how seriously you take your work.” When Alyve didn’t respond, she went on, “And anyway, I don’t think she considers this entirely political. Yes, picking sides is the watered down version of this whole ordeal, but it’s only to assist us in closing the Breach.”

“_Maybe_ closing the Breach.”

“It’s the only option we have, unfortunately, regardless of whether it will work or not.” She took another step forward. And then another… and before she knew it, she was crouching in front of Alyve, tenderly taking her hand in her own. She was absolutely crossing over her own personal rule of distance. But everything in her was telling her to go to Alyve’s aid, to look on her no longer as the Herald, but as a friend. “Lady Trevelyan… I wish you didn’t feel so alone. If there’s anything I can do—”

“I’m afraid, Lady Montilyet, there is not much you _can_ do.” Alyve offered her a sad smile. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Then let my promise to convince the others to listen to you act as _some_ proof to how you truly are not alone. I will stand by you. Always.”

Alyve felt tears sting her eyes as she said weakly, “Really?”

“I may not always agree with you, but I trust your judgement. I will also be there to nudge you in the right direction, but feel free to ignore me.”

“I can’t possibly ignore someone as intelligent as you, Lady Montilyet.”

Josephine felt her face burn. Alyve seemed to have a way with words in most situations, but she certainly knew how to make a girl blush. Silence hung around them for a moment before Josephine caught herself staring into Alyve’s emerald eyes. She snapped herself out of it, shooting to her feet. Her hand slipped from Alyve’s and suddenly she felt a shiver from the lack of the most comfortable warmth she had experienced thus far. She had been holding her left hand, though… so maybe it was just her mark.

Right, yes… just her mark.

“I want to thank you for coming in here to tell me of your intentions,” said Alyve, sensing Josephine’s change from tender to serious. “I’ll make my final decision tomorrow, as promised.”

Josephine nodded courteously, but she didn’t dare look her in the eye in fear of getting lost in them again. “Of course. I shall see you then.” She turned and started toward the door, but paused to say, “Before I forget, your parents replied to your letter.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, and they offer their full support of the Inquisition.” She glanced over her shoulder to smile at Alyve. “So it looks like you’re really not as alone as you might think.” The dazzling smile she received in return was almost overwhelming. She managed to let out a timid, “goodnight,” before slipping back out into the cold. She paused for just a second, listening to Alyve moving around her cabin. Her heart was slamming a bruise against her chest. She felt dizzy… perhaps she should visit the infirmary tomorrow.

As she slowly stepped away from the cabin and toward her own quarters, she heard a familiar voice ask from behind her, “What were you doing in there?”

Josephine nearly leapt out of her skin, spinning around to find Leliana curiously observing the ambassador.

“What… I don’t… what are _you_ doing _out here_?” Josephine demanded, flustered beyond measure.

“Don’t answer my question with another question, Josie,” said Leliana, a wolfish grin spreading. “That’s the Herald’s cabin. You were in there for quite a while.”

“I beg your pardon, but were you following me?” Josephine asked, marching back toward her own quarters.

Leliana followed at an even pace. “No, I just so happened to be nearby. I got curious when I saw a dear friend visit the Herald at this hour. Usually, _she_ seeks you _out_.”

“With good reason. I honestly think I’m the only one she feels comfortable talking to. And why wouldn’t she? We’re putting so much pressure on her.”

“Where did this come from?” Leliana said, raising her brows.

“You should have seen her just now… she’s more than what we make of her. Or, well, _less_ than, technically. She’s only human. She’s clearly scared of what’s to happen with the Breach.” Josephine stopped in front of her door, Leliana listening carefully. “I think we need to either establish that she has some kind of title beyond Herald, that she matters more than just a vessel to close rifts, or we need to really assist her in these matters regardless of what we think and feel. Cullen has not made it easy on her, purposefully or otherwise.”

“I suppose you have a point,” Leliana said slowly.

“I want us all to succeed, Alyve included.”

Leliana cocked her head to the side. “Just ‘Alyve?’ No title before her first name? No formalities?”

Josephine realized her slip and coughed distractedly. “It… It’s to merely stress the importance… why are you smiling like that? Don’t laugh at me! Ugh, you are no help. Good _night_, Leliana.”

All the spymaster did was continue to laugh into her hand, Josephine blushing ferociously as she all but slammed the door in Leliana’s shit-eating grin.

* * *

Alyve had made good on her promise to make her final choice. It wasn’t without bias, however. She always had a bit of spite geared toward the Templars after her brother died, but she also reasonably thought that the Mages might have more power than the Templars to overcome the Breach. As Josephine promised, she was in full support of Alyve’s decision. Cullen was still apprehensive, but Cassandra and Leliana were willing to hear her out.

But as soon as she extended that olive branch to the Mages’ side, they found themselves in a rather tight spot. Alyve had gone to Redcliffe a couple days ago to talk with Fiona and see what she needed from the Inquisition. It turned out that Fiona had no recollection of speaking with them in Val Royeaux to begin with, and, to top it all off, Fiona told them that the Free Mages pledged their services to the Tevinter Imperium.

In walked Magister Gereon Alexius, a snide man with a bad attitude and a control over Redcliffe castle. He was ruthless in his hold over the Free Mages, and Fiona feared for her people.

After Alexius' son, Felix, slipped Alyve a note to meet in private, they met Dorian Pavus instead. He was another Tevinter Mage who explained that Alexius was a Venatori Cultist and was not to be trifled with. The man had control over time itself, Dorian warned, which baffled Alyve and her companions to no end. Before they knew it, Dorian vanished with the promise of keeping in touch.

They received a rather curious letter from Alexius when they returned to Haven soon after. He asked for Alyve by name rather than her title. It was a very dangerous game, but it was their best chance to overrun him and try to assist Fiona and her rebels.

So, while Cullen kept trying to push Alyve back toward the path of the Templars, the three other women were more anxious over the fact Alyve was being lead into the clutches of a madman.

“We don’t have the manpower to take the castle,” Cullen was saying sharply. “Either we can find another way in, or give up this nonsense and go and get the Templars.”

“Redcliffe is in the hands of a Magister,” said Cassandra. “This cannot be allowed to stand.”

“The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name. It’s an obvious trap,” said Josephine, casting a slightly panicked look in Alyve’s direction.

“Isn’t that kind of him?” said Alyve airily, smirking at Josephine. “Why don’t we chalk it up to one of the many party invites I’ve received, Ambassador?”

“Please don’t say such things,” said Josephine, grimacing.

Ever since their talk in Alyve’s cabin, a part of Josephine felt rather protective of the younger woman. It was akin to how she doted on her siblings, but with a bit more intensity in ways Josephine didn’t care to sift through at this time. She knew that Alyve didn’t really _need_ protection in the slightest, but she had allowed herself to be vulnerable in front of Josephine. It was a sign of trust, and Josephine was going to make good on maintaining that trust.

Alyve, aware that her attempt at lightening the mood failed, moved on. “What does Alexius say about me?”

“He’s so complimentary that we are certain he wants to kill you,” said Leliana matter-of-factly.

Alyve almost laughed… almost. It turned into a strangled chuckle, a flicker of fear igniting in her chest. Josephine’s expression hardened and shook her head at Leliana darkly. “Not this again.”

“What? It’s rather obvious,” said Leliana. “It’s either he wants to kill her or he wants to turn her to his side for his own usage.”

The very thought made Josephine sick to her stomach. She and Alyve shared a fleeting, mutual look of nervousness before Cullen’s voice cut through.

“Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden,” he said to Alyve, and she caught a bit of his own nerve threaded in his tone. “It has repelled thousands of assaults. If you go in there, you’ll die, and we’ll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts. I won’t allow it.”

Alyve’s jaw set, and only Josephine knew why. Cullen spoke of her like she was the tool she did not want to be. But before either of them could point this out, Leliana spoke up urgently.

“And if we don’t even _try_ to meet Alexius, we lose the Mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep,” she said. “We promised Josephine we’d stick to the Herald’s plan, that we’d honor it. Whether or not you _allow_ something, Commander, it isn’t your place right now.”

“Even if we could assault the keep,” Josephine interjected, trying to get back on track, “it would be for naught. An _Orlesian_ Inquisition’s army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war. Our hands are tied.”

Cassandra tried, “The Magister—”

“—Has outplayed us,” finished Cullen, frowning deeply.

"We can’t just give up!” Alyve said, setting her hands on the War Table firmly, a fire in her eyes. Despite the aching fear settling inside, she was determined to show them that she was on board with everything, that she was more than just a vessel of unexplained power. “There has to be something we can do.”

“She is right,” said Cassandra, surprising Alyve. “We cannot accept defeat now. There must be a solution.”

“Where is the Arl of Redcliffe?” Alyve asked, fixing her gaze on Josephine. “I’m sure he’d help us get his castle back.”

“After he was displaced, Arl Teagan rode straight into Denerim to petition the crown for help,” said Josephine. Out of the corner of her eye, Alyve saw Leliana sigh and pinch the bridge of her nose. Josephine went on, “I doubt he’ll want our assistance once the Ferelden army lays siege to his castle.”

“Great,” groaned Alyve. So much for that. She turned to Leliana next. “Other than the main gate, there’s got to be another way into the castle. A sewer? A watercourse? _Some_thing.”

“There’s nothing I know of that would work,” said Cullen.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Alyve snapped suddenly, Cullen taken aback. His offhanded comment still stung, and she wasn’t about to let him make another one any time soon.

“Wait,” said Leliana, unfazed. “There _is_ a secret passage into the castle. An escape route for the family. It’s too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through.”

“Too risky,” said Cullen, casting a furtive glance in Alyve’s direction. “Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the Magister.”

A sneaky smile curled across Leliana’s face. “That’s why we need a distraction. Perhaps the envoi Alexius wants so badly.”

“Focus their attention on Trevelyan while we take out the Tevinters…” Cullen mulled it over, nodding. “It’s risky,” he said again, inclining his head toward Alyve, “_but_ it could work.”

The doors were suddenly thrown open dramatically. Alyve whirled around. Cullen and Cassandra went for their respective swords. It was just Dorian however, sauntering in as though he owned the place. An Inquisition troop was huffing behind him.

"Fortunately!” he bellowed, “you’ll have help.” He paused, taking in the room. “I do hope that worked with whatever it was you said last. I can’t hear a damn thing behind that door. Did it work?” When no one answered, too astonished to formulate a sentence, he sighed. “Well, if it didn’t, I certainly am quite ashamed that you didn’t set me up properly. Regardless, I come to aid you.”

“This man says he has information about the Magister and his methods, Commander,” the troop panted, clutching a stitch in his side.

Alyve couldn’t prevent the grin on her face at Dorian’s entrance. He came to stand beside her, his hands behind his back. The other three woman regarded him curiously. Cullen only furrowed his brow at Dorian with minor distaste at such an introduction.

“Your spies will never get past Alexius’ magic without my help,” Dorian continued. “So! If you’re going after him, I’m coming along.”

Cullen pursed his lips before turning to Alyve. Politely, he said, “The plan puts you in the most danger. We can’t in good conscience order you to do this. We can still go after the Templars if you’d rather not play the bait.” He hesitated and bowed his head respectfully. “It’s up to you. No matter your choice, we will follow.”

She glanced down at the map, her smile melting from her face. She considered everything that they had just discussed one last time. Maybe Cullen was right about switching to the Templars… but at this point, that would take too long. She could not let the Free Mages remain under the thumb of a crazed Magister on a power trip. She also could not allow his gross interest in her continue forth. They’ve already come this far with the Mages. They might as well see it through to the end.

“A wise woman once told me, ‘common ground is the start of all negotiations,’” Alyve said. Josephine smiled warmly, her tense shoulders relaxing. “Let this be our common ground, Commander: closing the Breach at all costs.”

"As you say, your Worship," said Cullen.

“Right, then. Dorian,” Alyve said. “We’ll have you on with us. I’ll go meet with Alexius and draw his attention to me. I’ll be fine.” Her voice grew in strength. “I won’t be alone. That is something Alexius cannot truly control. He’ll have to live with the fact that I have friends who have my back. Right?” She stole a glance at Cassandra, who merely nodded stiffly.

“I will certainly assist you, Herald,” said Cassandra.

“Excellent,” said Dorian, clapping his hands together once. “I look forward to the party!”

“This is a _serious_ matter,” said Leliana.

“Oh, nonsense. Where’s the harm in a little bit of fun?” Dorian bounced on the balls of his feet. “Are you all this serious all the time?” Nobody smiled… nobody but Alyve, although she was trying to keep it level. Dorian looked expectantly at each of them in turn, landing on Alyve last. His smile widened to a grin as he watched her struggle. “Ah, good to know there’s at least _someone_ with a sense of humor,” he said pleasantly.

All at once, Alyve didn’t feel so alone anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of exposition and explaining the events in between their relationship, I know. This is really just the main footing of the story before we get into the good shit, i.e. everything at Skyhold. You don't really get to grow a relationship with Josie early on, so worry not. It'll be less about what the Inquisition is doing and more about how the girls come to love each other once we get to Skyhold.
> 
> Also about Cullen. I love him to pieces, trust me. He's low-key kind of a dick at the start of the game, but his growth as a person is awesome. He and Alyve won't be at each other's throats for long.


	3. The Dawn Will Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the next two chapters are really heavy with exposition regarding Alyve's development and becoming Inquisitor. But no worries, that'll pass quickly once things with Josie get going. I also added my own personal flare, as always.
> 
> Also thank you for the kudos and comments, y'all are too kind.

“Is she alright?”

Dorian turned in surprise to find Josephine behind him, worry etched deeply in her features. She was staring at him intently, determined to get the answer she so desired.

“I’m sorry?” he asked, but not unkindly.

Almost frantically, “Alyve… is she alright?”

“Oh…”

After the events in Redcliffe, Alyve had been reclusive and deathly silent, which was enough to worry anyone, of course. But Josephine had hardly had a chance to ask Alyve herself in fear of being turned away. Dorian was the next best option, and the Mage found it rather admirable. Josephine was the first of anyone to ask him personally of Alyve's wellbeing, though he was just in the dark as everyone else.

Alyve had relayed the horrid “dark future” to them after they had returned safely, the alliance with the Mages cinched, but since then, she refused to speak to anyone. Iron Bull and Cassandra, who had been present at the time, were shaken up by the events, sure. Watching Alyve and Dorian disappear and then reappear, claiming that they were transported to a future in which everything went wrong would be enough to shake anyone.

But they didn’t _experience_ it. Alyve and Dorian had. Alyve was thrown into a world where she was dead, where the Inquisition had failed. She watched as her companions died trying to protect her and Dorian as they bolted back through the portal. A part of her desperately wanted to turn back and try to right the wrongs, but the only way she truly could was to go back to her own time and ensure that it wouldn’t happen in the first place.

Dorian had to all but drag her back in as she cried out for Cassandra and Iron Bull as they fell in battle. Once in the present, Alyve had embraced the two of them, shaking violently and catching them by surprise. She even went as far to thank Leliana for her actions in the dark future, even though the spymaster was apprehensive to accept such a responsibility for something she didn’t do… or wouldn’t do… or however it worked. Only after did Leliana see the anguish on Alyve's face did she finally say she did something she'd do in a heartbeat no matter the time period. It was all very confusing and overwhelming for everyone.

Yet, even with the victories following, Alyve had shut herself away most hours of the day. The only time most of them even saw her out and about was on the training grounds, nocking arrow after arrow, sweat rolling down her ferociously determined face.

It was almost frightening.

“I cannot say for certain,” continued Dorian, squeezing his hands together. “She was… well, you probably know her better than I. In that dark future, she was angry, but I could see her fear. I think being forced to watch what would happen if we should fail terrified her. With good reason, of course.”

“So you haven’t the slightest idea why she’s being so… distant?”

Dorian searched her pained expression. “I’m afraid not, Lady Montilyet. I’m sorry.” And he meant it. “Perhaps… perhaps she just needs a friend. I don’t know her very well, like I said.”

“She and I are… acquaintances.”

He was mildly surprised to hear that, so much so that his brows shot into his hair. “And that is all? Interesting.”

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just thinking out loud.” He awkwardly reached out and gave her a short pat on the arm. “Ah… yes, well, mere acquaintances or not, someone is going to have to help her snap out of this.”

* * *

Alyve vowed not to tell anyone else that she discovered about their individual fates. As far as any of them were concerned, she only knew of what became of Leliana, Cassandra, and Iron Bull. It unnerved them all, but little did they know that Alyve knew more than she was letting on…

Leliana had been downright scary in the dark future, more so than she was now. Never would she ever wish that sort of torture on the spymaster—or anyone for that matter—but it had hardened Leliana in a way that fueled a vengeance deep within her heart. Alyve understood why, and so she let Leliana take out all her anger on her and Dorian, who were both healthy and determined to fix the mess. Leliana had constantly reminded them that even if they did, _this_ reality still happened to her, and they couldn’t quite take it back like they kept promising.

The sunken, sullen faces of her companions made her shiver. Iron Bull and Cassandra were still in utter disbelief that Alyve was even alive, constantly gawking at her in the moments of silence as though she would vanish right before their eyes when they least expected it. The dark future did a number on them all. Alyve hadn’t even wanted to entertain the idea of venturing outside the walls of the castle to see the death and destruction Alexius had brought upon the rest of the world.

As they moved through the decaying castle quickly and quietly, curiosity had gotten the better of Alyve. While she truly didn’t want to take a peek outside, she still had some questions regarding the fate of Thedas… and those she knew. She had cautiously approached Leliana, matching her stride down the murky stone halls.

“Leliana… I’d like to ask you something,” she had said in a small voice, weary of Leliana in this state.

“What is it?” was the cold reply.

“It’s about Cullen and Josephine.” That caught Leliana’s interest and she glanced at Alyve out of the corner of her eye. “What became of them?”

“Cullen… tried his best to manage and maintain the Inquisition. He threw all of our forces at Redcliffe. He was furious with himself for being so curt with you, and I think that inspired such a ravenous revenge. We lost, unfortunately, and the Inquisition fell shortly afterward. Cullen is currently a prisoner of war. Where, I do not know. I don’t even know if he’s alive anymore.”

Alyve’s stomach had churned painfully. “And Josephine?”

Leliana was deathly silent for a few long beats. Then, “She gave up.”

She was almost too afraid to ask, but she did anyway. “…How do you mean?”

“When word reached us of your death, she… broke. She didn’t even try to reign Cullen in. She just let it happen. Last I saw of her, she was a shell of the woman I once knew. Josephine cared about you very much—more than she liked to admit, or perhaps more than she even realized. Before you made the choice to side with the Mages, she told me that we needed to lighten up on you. She was worried about your wellbeing.

“So, as soon as Cullen rallied our troops, Josephine disappeared from Haven without a trace. I’ve heard whispers of her returning to Antiva, but she does not work anymore. I think that she no longer saw a purpose to keep going without you around.”

“She… she didn’t—_doesn’t_ really know me. I mean, yes, we’ve been growing close, but—”

“She still cared. And, if we are successful today, I know she still does in your reality.” For the first time, Leliana softened. “Josephine is a loyal friend underneath the titles and the formalities. It’s a tough habit to shake for her, but once she allows herself to open up, she’s an entirely different person. Take what you learn here and apply it to your life back in your own time.”

Alyve had nodded seriously. “I promise, Leliana.”

And she fully intended on keeping that promise. She was still struggling with facing her peers, caught in a sickening spiral of what might be and what was. She couldn’t stay away from them forever, and she knew that. What deeply plagued her was knowing what became of Cullen and Josephine even though she did not witness such.

Cullen, despite his shortcomings, was still a loyal, honest man. Alyve hoped that she would manage to reconcile with him someday soon. He only had the Inquisition’s best interests at heart. His way of going about reaching their goal simply did not match Alyve’s, which provoked them both whenever they butted heads. Yet she was oddly touched to know he went to great lengths to exact revenge on Alexius’ forces, although they were made in vain.

Josephine’s fate haunted her the most. While Alyve was attracted to her, yes, she had no idea that knowing of what she did after her “death” would impact her the way it did. While she and Josephine were not the _best_ of friends, they were stepping gingerly into that realm. And if what the dark future Leliana said was true in that reality, Josephine was well on her way to becoming closer to her than either of them anticipated.

The time to close the Breach was nearing with the Mages’ alliance secured. All that was left was for Alyve to say the word. If she were to take any steps to ensure that the dark future would fade away, it would start with closing the Breach and pressing forward to keep the rest of Thedas safe from rifts and demons—and Maker knows what else.

All this and more was running through her head as she paced back and forth in her cabin. She was scared out of her mind, unsure if she would be able to close the Breach, even with the assistance of the Mages. She paused in the center of her room and lifted up her left hand so she could examine it. The mark glowed right in her palm, each throb dull but uncomfortable. Solas said that the pain should ease once the Breach closed. And once the Breach closed, they could look toward a brighter future... shying away from the darkness Alexius wanted to promise.

She closed her fingers over the mark and started for the door, grabbing her bow and quiver on her way out. The snow crunched with each purposeful step. Her breath caught in her chest, her mind focused on one thing and one thing only. She couldn’t let fear overpower her. Not now. Not when they were so close.

She threw the doors to the War Room open, the council hovering over the map as they debated their next move. Their heads darted up in mild shock as Alyve entered and stopped at the other side of the table.

“Cullen, how many troops are willing to march with us to the Breach?” she asked, getting right to the point.

“As… as many as you’d like, your Worship,” said Cullen, drawing himself up to his full height. “What are—”

“Leliana, are the Mages ready to begin?”

“At your word.” Leliana was just as flabbergasted as Cullen. “But—”

“Josephine, how soon can we begin?”

“Did you want to start right away?” said Josephine, searching Alyve’s serious expression.

“Yes. We need that Breach closed before we can focus on anything further. With the supposed assassination attempt on the Empress dawning, we must act on our current goal. And whoever Alexius was working for—this Elder One—might be a bigger threat than we know. Not to mention the face Varric made when I mentioned red lyrium corruption. There’s more for the Inquisition to deal with on the horizon, but I’d like that horizon to be a little less green, thanks.”

“Then we are with you,” said Cullen. “I’ll get my men together.”

“I will send my people to scope out the temple ahead of us,” said Leliana.

“And I will rally the Mages,” said Josephine.

Alyve nodded. “Excellent. To the Temple of Sacred Ashes we go…” She turned on her heel to go and wrangle her companions and set course for the Breach.

* * *

Alyve quietly observed the troops as they prepared to follow her into the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Dorian, Cassandra, and The Iron Bull would be flanking her and guiding the Mages toward the Breach. The other companions would help Cullen lead the charge against demons as they spilled from the surrounding rifts. Leliana and Josephine would oversee Haven in their absence and were prepared to receive any updates whether it was good or bad.

The War Council approached her once everyone was ready. Cullen bowed his head in Alyve’s direction. “On your word, you Worship, we will march,” he said.

“Thank you, Commander,” said Alyve.

“We await your return,” said Leliana.

When Alyve’s gaze moved to stare into the distance, Josephine took a small step forward and said, “And you _will_ return, Herald. It won’t be easy, but you won’t be alone.”

“After all, we would not be here without you,” said Cullen.

“He is right,” said Cassandra, coming up from behind the council. She had all those Alyve had recruited in tow. “You have brought the Inquisition further than we ever dreamed.”

“We’ll close the Breach together,” added Dorian. “And find out more of this Elder One that Alexius was working for.”

“We’ve got your back, Boss,” said Iron Bull.

“You should be fine with Seeker, Sparkler, and Tiny by your side,” said Varric with a smirk. “If anything should happen, we’ll just blame them.”

Cassandra shot him a glare. “Watch your tongue.”

“I do hope that you all will be on your best behavior when we’re out there,” said Cullen, glancing at them reproachfully.

“We will,” said Vivienne. “At the very least, I will make sure of it.”

“Hey, who said you get to call the shots?” spat Sera.

“_Alright_,” said Alyve, raising her hands chest-high to call them to order. She was unable to contain her affectionate smile for the lot of them. “I have complete faith in everyone.” Her throat tightened as she looked at each of them in turn. “Before we go… I just want to thank you. All of you. I know this mustn’t have been easy for any of you to give up the lives you were leading in order to join the Inquisition. It certainly wasn’t for me. Regardless, I appreciate all you’ve done.” She took in a deep breath, shuddering with unshed tears. “Right. Commander, let us march.”

Cullen nodded once, turning and signaling the others to follow. Alyve began to press forward after them, but she stole a glance over her shoulder at Leliana and Josephine. To her surprise, they both bowed deeply as though she was their leader…

And it dawned on her that yes, in that moment, she was. Everyone else was following her word without question. Even Cullen and Cassandra—two people from which she was positive she’d meet some resistance.

She tore her gaze away from the two women, hoping that she would indeed return and keep assisting the Inquisition in ensuring a brighter future for all of Thedas.

* * *

Her breath rattled painfully in her chest. She was certain she had a few broken bones in several places. Her mark—the Anchor, he called it—burned like white fire in the core of her palm. Vision fuzzy, surroundings cold, Alyve could barely lift herself off the ground, let alone lift her head an inch.

She was alive—thank the Maker. And she hoped that the rest had made it to safety. She barely spared a second thought when she saw the flare shoot into the night. Nor did she think as she took that plunge into the nearby hole after she triggered the second avalanche. Her objective was to distract Corypheus, and she had succeeded… but for how long, she did not know.

She allowed herself to catch her breath, to let her vision even out. Once the rocky ceiling came into near-perfect focus, she sucked in a deep breath, bracing herself. With waning strength, she hoisted herself up, grunting in pain and clutching her side. Her legs shook once she was on her feet as though she were a newbown fawn. She fell to her knees after one step and coughed up some blood, inhaling sharply as the pain struck her like lightning. She screwed her eyes shut and gripped her side. This pain should have been no different compared to the injuries she's sustained in the wilds, but since it was paired with disorientation, it was worse.

_Got… to keep… going_, she thought, forcing herself back onto her feet. _Come on. Move._

Each step was a stumble, each shudder hurt like hell. The Anchor’s ghastly green color was the only light in the tunnel… or was this a mineshaft? Where was she? It didn’t really matter. She had to keep moving forward.

After quite a bit of time tripping through the darkness and slipping across icy pathways, she caught a glimpse of light. _There!_ She hobbled forth, crossing beneath rickety scaffolding, ignoring the looming creaks of abandoned work. She came upon a clearing in the caves, an open space with toppled over mine carts and rubble. An old mineshaft indeed. So there _had_ to be a way out somewhere.

As soon as she set foot into the clearing, her hand burst with energy as demons materialized before her. She cried out in pain, her right hand clutching her left wrist as her hand quaked with the Anchor's power. The demons were nearing, growling and clawing at her. With all her strength, she reached out with her Anchored hand—unsure of what she was doing—and sent out a pulsating mini-rift that swallowed the energy of the demons, sparing her several more injuries. She panted as the mark faded, allowing her a moment to draw her weapon. She nocked one arrow after the other to rid the area of the confused demons, their cries echoing in the near-empty space as she made her precise shots. The rift soon folded in on itself, the dust settling and leaving her in hollowed silence.

Her legs shook but she managed to catch herself from falling again. The short burst of adrenaline was fading as she meekly slung her bow across her back, collecting her forgotton arrows from the ground. She usually didn't mind losing a few, but without the promise of proper reinforcements and resupply, she needed to be smart.

_Come on, Alyve… almost there…_ Wherever “there” was, she couldn’t say, but anywhere was better than here.

With a few more aching steps, she made it out of the tunnel and into the unforgiving snowy wastes. A blizzard was raging, obscuring her vision. She groaned, allowing herself a moment to complain, but quickly shoved that away so she could keep pushing forth.

She shivered as the bitter cold berated her. She used her right hand as a poor attempt at a shield above her eyes, trudging through the deepening snow. Her teeth chattered, goosebumps smothered her skin. Her battle armor was not equipped for this kind of weather, and she hoped to the Maker that this wasn’t how she died.

_How pathetic would it be if the Herald of Andraste was killed by the cold and not by a mutilated freak with a god-complex?_

Several paces later, she stumbled upon an abandoned camp, but it was as cold as the world around her. She suddenly wished that she was a Mage so she could conjure up a batch of flames to bring the camp back to life for just a moment. Trees were sparse, but it was a decent sign that life shouldn’t be too far away. She'd take all the hope she could get.

As she pressed forward, a distant howl of a wolf pack startled her and she froze, twisting around to see if it was closer than she thought. She jumped at every shadow, the blizzard unforgiving. She considered grabbing her bow, but her fingers were so numb and stiff that she would barely be able to nock one measly arrow. So she plowed deeper into the snow.

It took everything she had to keep moving, her ears strained for any further signs of potential enemies. Flurries cut at her face, her boots were completely soaked through. She could no longer feel her any toes or the fingers on her right hand. Her left still burned, and she wondered if the heat of the Anchor was the only thing keeping her alive and standing.

Going mad from exhaustion and pain, her eyes began to play cruel tricks on her. People stood in her path, just barely out of reach. Sometimes she could bring them into focus, other times they were meaningless blobs of frayed color. She thought she saw Cullen, so she began to rush, but he faded away with a gust of wind. Then Cassandra was standing right beside her—only to vanish in the blink of an eye. Was that her brother? No… Maker, no it wasn’t. Josephine? Just a snow-covered bush.

Focus, focus, _focus!_

Minutes—or hours?—later, she came across yet another camp. Hope? At last? She clumsily waded through the snow toward it and her heart raced as she noted the embers. Shivering violently, she reached out to the embers in a desperate attempt to collect warmth. When the wind finally battered the embers into nothingness, Alyve gave up. Her teeth chattered painfully, hugging her arms to her chest, searching the area. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but she let out a small sigh of relief that there was at least _one_ sign of life. Someone was nearby. Who, she wasn’t sure, but it was enough to force her to keep plodding forward.

The blizzard was subsiding, but the wind still brought a sharp chill down her spine. It whipped her hair around, clouding her view. Her every extremity was frozen to the bone. She stumbled over clumps of snow, feet too numb to make sense of their surroundings. Her vision was fading as she moved through a pass, catching the smallest glimpse of light up ahead.

Her heart leapt into her throat. She reached out, waving meagerly to gain attention, but her arm quickly flopped to her side. Her body was failing.

_Please… help…_ She tried to rush toward the glow, but her legs gave out.

“There!” a familiar voice cried. “It’s her!”

She moaned weakly, a last ditch effort to cry for help lodging in her throat, clutching at her side again. She was struggling to keep her eyes open.

“Thank the Maker!” Was that… Cassandra? Was her brain actually processing this reality correctly?

With a final bit of her strength, her brain managed to process the figures of Cullen and Cassandra running toward her, a couple of Inquisition troops at their heels. Then, all at once, everything went black as she fell face first into the snow.

* * *

“What would you have me tell them? This isn’t what we asked them to do!”

"We cannot simply ignore this! We must find a way!”

Alyve’s tired eyes scrunched, trying to catch a few more winks of sleep, but the shouting was not helping in the slightest. She heaved a small sigh through her nose, bringing a hand up to rub at her forehead. As her sluggish brain sparked into coherant thought, she realized that she was no longer suffering in the cold. Although, yes, it was still nippy around her, she was dry and covered in a heavy blanket. Each breath she took was a reminder that she was still alive. The ache in her side still pinched and stung, her head was still swimming just a tad, and she was truly exhausted. She was not fully healed by any means, but by the Maker she was _alive_.

The yelling continued and startled her back to reality, “And who put _you in_ charge? We need a consensus, or we have nothing!”

Cullen and Cassandra. Of course.

She gingerly sat up, the blanket pooling around her middle, shapes slowly taking form as she blinked sleep from her eyes. She was in a camp, and, upon further observation, in the medical tent. Her clothes were dry, armor stacked in a nearby corner. She could feel that her side was banadged up beneath her clothes. She had a perfect view of the War Council bickering in front of a nearby fire. Other members of the Inquisition were nervously passing them by, trying to stay out of whatever argument they were having this time.

“Please, we must use reason!” Josephine tried. “Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we’re hobbled—”

“That can’t come from nowhere!” Cullen snapped at her.

“She didn’t say it could!” Leliana defended, stepping forward and ferociously poking Cullen in the chest.

“Enough!” Cassandra bellowed. “This is getting us nowhere!”

"Well, we’re agreed on that much!” Cullen said hotly.

Alyve was about to get up and attempt to put an end to this pointless debate, but a gentle hand came out and set itself on her shoulder. She followed the attached arm up to the kind face of Mother Giselle. She smiled softly, eyes full of motherly concern.

“Shh, you need rest,” she whispered.

“They’ve been at it for hours, haven’t they?” asked Alyve needlessly. It was just like the four of them to get into an argument during such a trying time.

“They have that luxury, thanks to you.” Mother Giselle could see that Alyve had no intention on lying back down, so she helped her sit up fully and comfortably. “The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, we turn to blame.” Her smile melted into a deep frown. “Infighting may threaten as much as this Corypheus.”

Suddenly alert, “Do we know where Corypheus and his forces are?”

With a sad sigh, “We are not sure where _we_ are. Which may be why, despite the numbers he still commands, there is no sign of him… That, or you are believed dead. Or without Haven, we are thought helpless. Or he girds for another attack.”

“The endless possibilities,” Alyve mumbled under her breath.

Either Mother Giselle ignored the comment or simply did not hear her because she continued on. “I cannot claim to know the mind of that creature, only his effect on us.”

Alyve stole another glance at the four still yelling at each other. “If they’re arguing about what we need to do next, I need to be there.”

“Another heated voice won’t help. Even yours… perhaps _especially_ yours.”

They sat and watched as they all kept shouting at each other. After Cullen snapped at Josephine one final time, Leliana threw her hands up in frustration and told him to watch his mouth, grabbing Josephine by the wrist, yanking her away. Cullen looked to Cassandra for help, but she already started storming off in the opposite direction. He growled furiously and planted himself several paces away, mumbling under his breath. It all seemed to pointless to be at each other's throats. And perhaps Mother Giselle was right: if Alyve had lent her voice to the conversation, it might have blown out proportion.

“Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed," said Mother Giselle once the four had settled to stew in their own thoughts. "We saw our defender stand… and fall. And now, we have seen her _return_. Now that you are back, their concerns have turned elsewhere. And perhaps Ambassador Montilyet can finally get some rest.”

“I beg your pardon?” Alyve’s head whipped back to Mother Giselle so fast that it gave her the spins.

“Oh, yes… she was not keen on sleeping while we searched and waited hopefully for your return. In fact, while you’ve been sleeping, she sat where I am sitting now, watching over you. Spymaster Leliana said that the ambassador felt responsible for you… it was only a few hours ago did she finally relinquish this seat to go speak with the others.”

“How long was I gone? Really?”

“Long enough.”

Alyve looked back at Josephine, and she did indeed appear exhausted. She wondered how long she really was gone for, and how long her body slept. If what Mother Giselle said was true, Josephine put her own health and sanity at risk to watch over Alyve, regardless of her comatose state. Despite the vicious back-and-forth with the others ending, she still looked close to tearing her hair out as she sat defeated in front of the fire. Leliana was sitting on the ground by her side, just as worn out and run down as Alyve felt.

She would have to thank Josephine at a more peaceful time, too. Maybe when the two of them were alone together, away from prying eyes and ears.

With a great effort, Alyve swung her legs off the cot so she could sit properly. She gripped the edge with her hands, steadying herself. Mother Giselle didn’t stop her.

“The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trials seem ordained,” she went on. Alyve grimaced, and Mother Giselle caught the turmoil in an instant. “That is hard to accept, no? What ‘we’ have been called to endure? What ‘we,’ perhaps, must come to believe?”

This again. This whole concept of belief in something greater. And honestly, Alyve didn’t know _what_ to think about it all. She couldn’t deny, however, that her survival of the avalanche, narrowly escaping Corypheus and his dragon, and the journey through the unforgiving blizzard was nothing short of some kind of miracle.

“I… escaped the avalanche. Barely, perhaps, but I didn’t die,” said Alyve quietly.

“Of course,” said Mother Giselle gently. “And the dead cannot return from across the Veil. But the people know what they saw.” She placed her hand atop Alyve’s. “Or, perhaps, what they _needed_ to see. The Maker works both in the moment, and in how it is remembered. Can we truly know the heavens are _not_ with us?”

She had a point. Alyve did not know nor could she claim to know. All her life, she was told to follow Andraste’s teachings and to accept the Maker’s word as fact. For a long time, she resented such beliefs for being forced down her throat. Yet with each passing day, that bitterness was lifting and being replaced with tentative faith. She knew of the legends, of the stories regarding the Magisters entering the Fade. If what Corypheus said was true, he was just as wretched as the dreaded darkspawn that brought the Blight upon Thedas.

In a small voice, “Corypheus said he found only corruption and emptiness in the heavens. Nothing golden.”

“If he entered that place,” was the strong counter-argument, “it has changed him without and within. The living are not meant to make that journey. Perhaps these are lies he _must_ tell himself, rather than accept that he earned the scorn of the Maker.” She shook her head heavily. “I know I could not bear such.”

“Mother Giselle, I just don’t see how what I believe matters,” said Alyve. “Lies or not, Corypheus is a real, physical threat.” She slowly rose to her feet, albeit unsteadily. Mother Giselle did not stop her. “We can’t match that with hope alone.”

"Perhaps not, but wouldn't you say that it is a good start?"

Alyve considered this. "Maybe it is." She limped over to a nearby post, setting her hand against it to keep herself balanced.

The wind was still howling, and everyone appeared to be so down on their luck, but understandably so. None seemed to notice that Alyve was back on her feet, too overwhlemed from recent events. Nearby, Cullen was pacing, still muttering under his breath. Cassandra was hunched over a table reading something Alyve could not see. Leliana and Josephine still sat unmoving from their spot before the fire.

She could just barely see some of her companions wandering about the camp. Dorian and Varric were huddled together in a heated discussion. The Iron Bull was looking after his men, Sera sitting amongst them. Vivienne was hovering by Cassandra, most likely eager to know what their next step was. Blackwall was standing in front of a tent, staring into space. Solas was nowhere in sight.

Out of the corner of her eye, Alyve swore she could make out the figure of a young boy—Cole, was it?—watching over Chancellor Rodrick. Whether or not he was alive now, Alyve was unsure.

Snow-muffled footsteps sounded from behind her as Mother Giselle came to stand by her side. Her voice fluttered into the cold air as she sang out a hymn that even Alyve knew all too well.

  
_Shadows fall and hope has fled_   
_Steel your heart, the dawn will come_   
_The night is long and the path is dark_   
_Look to the sky, for one day soon_   
_The dawn will come…_

  
Moved by the song, Leliana’s head lifted from its resting place on her arm. It was then she finally noticed Alyve, nudging Josephine to get her to look. Josephine sat bolt upright, but her voice was lodged in her throat. Her attention shifted from Alyve to Mother Giselle, her tense body easing after what felt like years. Cassandra also tore her focus from her task, pleased to see Alyve walking, but admittedly moved by the hymn at the same time.

As the next verse began, Leliana joined in:

_The shepherd’s lost and his home is far_   
_Keep to the stars_   
_The dawn will come_

It wasn’t just Leliana. Quickly, more voices chimed in, troops moving forward as realization of Alyve’s awakening spread. Josephine and Cassandra followed Leliana’s example. The ambassador and spymaster rose to their feet, the Seeker moving around her table to stand beside them. Cullen, who had been quietly observing at first, finally allowed himself to add his own voice, joining the other three women as they went to stand before the Herald.

_The night is long and the path is dark_   
_Look to the sky, for one day soon_   
_The dawn will come_

One by one, the members of the Inquisition dropped to one knee before Alyve. Humbled by such devotion, she could only watch in a stunned silence. And it wasn’t just the troops or Mages. It was _everyone_. The entire War Council, Cassandra, Dorian, Varric, Iron Bull, Sera, Vivienne, Blackwall… they all bowed in respect. It was only Solas she could not see.

_Bare your blade and raise it high_   
_Stand your ground_   
_The dawn will come_   
_The night is long and the path is dark_   
_Look to the sky, for one day soon_   
_The dawn will come_

The hymn faded, and everyone rose to their feet, cheering for Alyve. She caught the relieved smiles on her companion’s faces, and she was deeply moved by such. She mustered a small smile in return, but ultimately was at a loss for words. Mother Giselle, however, was not.

“An army needs more than an enemy. It needs a cause.” And with that, she moved along to tend to the eager members of the Inquisition.

As she took everything in, Alyve reconsidered her faith. Maybe what she believed really didn’t matter in the end, but if there was one thing she was certain of, everyone believed in her in some way, shape, or form. Perhaps it was time she believed in herself, too.

* * *

_By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it. Changed you._

Solas had said this to her before they all packed up and began moving North. He was right. Alyve was changed in ways she could not describe. But she was definitely more determined than ever to lead the Inquisition to victory. They had a new enemy, a new purpose and cause to continue forward.

_Scout to the North. Be their guide. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it._

Alyve had Leliana send out ravens to assist them in their search. All the while, the council and her companions were only a couple steps behind her, loyally following her lead. Some of them, like Josephine, were a little weary about letting Alyve march ahead after sustaining such injuries, but she refused to listen to reason. If she needed help, she would ask for it. Every now and again, if a hike was particularly difficult, someone would gladly lend her a shoulder to lean on.

She was _not_ alone anymore.

But as time went on, she regained her strength, walking smoothly and confidently across the snowy plains.

_There is a place where the Inquisition can build… grow…_

After days of walking, they finally reached their destination. And Alyve was in awe from the moment she first laid eyes on the structure. It was a massive, castle-like fortress that put the camp in Haven to shame. She stood stalk still as she stared at it, mouth agape.

“Skyhold,” Solas said from beside her.

“It’s perfect,” she breathed, moving forward. When she was finally able to rip her gaze away from the fortress, she turned back to find her companions climbing over the hill. She spread her arms wide and declared, “We’re home!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more off-script moments to come. Thanks for being a chill audience while I write selfishly.
> 
> Peace.


	4. The Inquisitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it truly begins...

They managed to make it to Skyhold in one piece by the evening. They all set up camp in the courtyard, intent on settling in officially when the morning dawned. Morale was at its highest since they first set foot in Haven, so they spent the night celebrating, playing music and games, and dancing like spirits well into the night.

Dorian was the first to really make it a party. He, Varric, Sera, and Iron Bull bellowed tavern songs at the top of their voices as their tankards overflowed with their dramatic arm-flailing. Alyve jokingly thought to herself that it would be them who caused the next avalanche. Blackwall and Vivienne allowed themselves to enjoy the festivities, the former more so than the latter… although Blackwall was the first to pass out before the night was even over. Troops pulled out some instruments that had survived the journey and played fantastical tunes that bit most everyone with the dancing bug.

After he tired of singing, Dorian pulled Alyve into a dance, laughing heartily as Alyve tripped over her feet, her cheeks rosy with ale. Once he left her to attempt to yank Bull into a dance, Alyve searched for a new companion, unable to stop herself from grinning. She found Josephine sitting on a wooden box, fiddling with a cup of wine. Confidence surging through her being, she approached the ambassador, hoping to coax Josephine to dance. Josephine was apprehensive, but the eagerness in Alyve’s eyes made it hard to say no. So she let Alyve pull her to her feet and into the middle of the party, finding herself keeping up with her with ease.

“You would have been the life of the party if you were ever to go to one,” Josephine teased as Alyve twirled her under her arm.

“Ah, Lady Montilyet, I would have been swept every woman off their feet,” laughed Alyve. “It would have been a danger to all the noble boys’ pride!”

And Josephine laughed with her, forgetting about everything else around them.

Further into the evening, Dorian even went as far as convincing Cassandra and Cullen to join in on the fun—after a couple of drinks of course. Somehow, Alyve got around to dancing with _everyone_, but she always returned to Josephine. People kept pressing drinks into her hands. She would either down them or hand them off to her friends if she was already busy with one. Her sides were hurting from all the laughing she was doing—which didn’t help her injury on her side in the slightest, but she didn’t care.

It seemed odd to celebrate after such a trying time, but their last party was cut short once Corypheus sent his goons into Haven. And they deserved every minute of this party. It was a sign of hope, a sign that their fight was not over. They were allowing themselves to forget about the pains of the world outside and enjoy life once more. One victory _had_ been taken, that was for sure. There were many, many more to be had now that they’ve gotten this far.

As it neared the early hours of the morning, Alyve pulled Josephine to the side. They were both exhausted, quite inebriated, but oh-so giggly. The party was coming to a close a few feet away, but there was still lively chatter filling the silence of the night. Josephine caught her breath as they came to a stop beside some bushes, cheeks red with wine, admiring Alyve as the moonlight glistened in those pools of green. She really could get lost in that maze if she let herself, and with the encouragement of the alcohol, she was struggling at the entrance of the tantalizing maze.

“I wanted to thank you,” said Alyve seriously, but she was still smiling.

"Whatever for?” Josephine asked, snapping herself back to reality with some effort.

“For watching over me when I was asleep,” said Alyve. “Mother Giselle told me.”

“Ah.” The rosiness in her cheeks plunged into embarrassment. “I… I was worried about you. We’ve been getting so close, and I thought that we were becoming friends, and when we were leaving without you…” She toyed with her hands anxiously. “I worried. I could not stop worrying. So when you returned, I stayed with you in fear you’d disappear again if I turned away.”

“Well, I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon. At least, not where you can’t reach me.” Alyve grabbed both of Josephine’s hands in her own, giving them a squeeze. “And you _have_ become my friend, Josephine. You’ve been nothing but kind to me this entire time. I cannot thank you enough.”

“You have a tendency to give me too much credit, Alyve,” Josephine said shyly.

Alyve boldly leaned forward just a bit, her face inches away from Josephine’s. To the both of them, it was the alcohol doing the talking. To an outside eye, it looked as though they were very aware of what they were saying to each other.

“Not at all,” whispered Alyve, a flirtatious smile unfurling. “You have more than proven yourself to be a loyal, intelligent, lovely individual.” She held their hands aloft between them, tilting her head so she could catch Josephine’s eye. “If it weren’t for you, I doubt the Inquisition would have made it this far.”

Josephine let slip a modest giggle, quickly moving her hand to press against her lips. She then realized that the hand was still interlocked with Alyve’s, the Herald’s marked hand just a few centimeters shy of her skin.

A heavy silence hung around them, unsure of what to do next. Who was going to make the next move or say the next thing? Was this flirting real or just their minds muddled beneath the influence of alcohol? But before either of them could come to a conclusion, Leliana’s voice cut in, prompting them to dart away from each other.

“I hate to break up the party,” Leliana said, approaching the pair, “but we all have a big day tomorrow. I think it’s time we all retire to bed, don’t you?” She was the only one who remained sober, deciding to be the responsible member of the Inquisition since most, if not all, would listen to her demand to put things to a close.

“Yes, of course,” stammered Josephine, dropping Alyve’s hands at once. She walked stiffly toward Leliana. “Good night, your Worship.”

“Good night,” said Alyve distantly, unable to take her eyes off of Josephine.

Leliana’s brows furrowed slightly in Alyve’s direction before slowly following after Josephine. She knew very well that the ambassador was secretly pining for the Herald—whether Josephine was aware of it herself was a whole different story—but seeing Alyve stare with hearts in her eyes was a first.

She decided to keep that in mind as she guided Josephine back, Alyve making her way to her own cot for the remainder of the night.

* * *

Getting up the next morning was not an easy task, but everyone set aside their pounding heads to get straight to work. Skyhold was due for a deep clean and proper furnishings. It was definitely a little worse for wear—certain parts of the building crumbling from lack of use throughout the years, cobwebs hung in every possible corner, and dust that had collected along each and every surface sent everyone in the vicinity into a coughing fit.

Two weeks later however, it didn’t look so dreary. The hard work everyone put in was shining through, and Skyhold was feeling more like home with each passing day. There was a sense of pride felt in everyone involved. Even those who seemed a little reserved about the Inquisition had found the time to stop and appreciate the beauty that Skyhold was becoming.

One morning, Alyve emerged from a side room after helping some of the troops put in some supplies in storage. Spread out before her was the courtyard, bustling with life. Members of the Inquisition were moving about, carrying boxes and helping the wounded get comfortable. Their numbers had grown, which had surprised Alyve greatly, but she was always willing to assist new, eager members. She had thought that Haven’s massacre would anger people and that the Inquisition would be seen as a nuisance… but the energy had never felt higher.

Standing in a circle near the edge of the yard was the War Council and Cassandra, speaking in hushed tones. Cassandra was the first to catch Alyve’s eye. She smiled and beckoned for her to join them, the others turning their attention to Alyve as well. Curious, Alyve walked over. Everyone but Cassandra dispersed as she approached—and Alyve couldn’t help but notice Josephine lingering slightly before following Leliana.

“Good morning,” Alyve said pleasantly.

“And to you.” Cassandra took in the clumps of people moving about the courtyard. “They arrive daily from ever settlement in the region,” she said proudly, tucking her hands behind her back.

“Ah, that explains the new faces,” said Alyve.

“Yes. Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage.” She nodded her head for Alyve to follow her up a flight of stone steps. Her tone changed from pride to somber, “If word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One. We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated.”

“I have faith in our troops,” said Alyve strongly. “And Corypheus would be a fool to try and attack us there, dragon or no. This is a fortress.”

“Perhaps, but let us not wish an attack anytime soon. And besides, we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drew him to you.”

Alyve lifted her left hand slightly. “He came for this, and now it’s useless to him, so he wants me dead.”

There was a shadow of a smile as Cassandra said, “The Anchor has power, but it is not why you are still standing here. Your decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven. You are that creature’s rival because of what _you_ did. And we know it. All of us.”

Up another flight of stairs they went, and Alyve wondered where Cassandra was taking her. At the landing was Leliana with her head bowed, a longsword resting across her hands. Alyve stopped dead in her tracks, bewildered at such an odd sight. What was going on?

“The Inquisition requires a leader: the one who has _already_ been leading it,” Cassandra went on.

Alyve had to force herself to move again, meeting Leliana in the middle, eyes wide. A rumble of activity from down in the courtyard made her turn her head to find every person in Skyhold gathering and looking back up at her. They were watching her with anticipation. Even Cullen was gazing at her fondly, a grinning Josephine at his side. She could see her companions among the crowd, fervidly waiting for her to act.

“You,” said Cassandra, voice filled to the brim with unrelenting respect.

Head spinning, Alyve turned back to Cassandra. She could barely croak out, “Me?”

“Of course. We all agree… we want nobody else to lead us into victory.”

Alyve felt as though the world was about to crumble beneath her feet, trapped in a dream that would eventually startle her awake after one unsupervised step. Not too long ago, Cassandra had Alyve in chains and she resented her for it. She was dragged into an organization all because she had something of power burning in the palm of her hand. She felt used by Cassandra, by the Inquisition. Even when they looked to her like she was their equal back in their old War Room, she never got the impression that they meant it. Leliana and Cullen were no exception. She had resented them, too. They were willingly going along with this crazy plan of Cassandra’s all on the basis of divine intervention.

But she had grown to get over it, to care about them. The dark future had impacted her greatly, feeling the cruel sting of panic at the sight of the gaunt, ashen dark-Leliana who so fiercely fought for the Inquisition and Alyve long after their end. How she told Alyve of Cullen’s dedication, of Josephine’s loss of purpose. How dark-Cassandra had stared at her with awe and what seemed to be regret. Regret she had gotten Alyve into that mess, awe that she had returned.

Even her companions who followed her into the fray without question (but never without a complaint or two). At any point, they could throw down their weapons and march away, leaving Alyve to fend for herself. But no—they stayed. And she sometimes wondered why. Every single person who stood beside her had experience beyond her years, yet it was _she_ they followed.

She finally found her voice. “It’s unanimous? You all have that much confidence in me?”

“All of these people have their lives because of you,” said Cassandra, as though that was a reason to make her their leader. Alyve was just doing what was right. “They will follow.”

Alyve shook her head. “That wasn’t the question.”

“I will not lie, handing this power to anyone is troubling, but I have to believe this is meant to be.” She gestured toward the sword in Leliana’s hands, and Alyve began to cautiously approach it. “There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve, how you’ll lead, that must be yours to decide.”

Alyve stared into the blade of the sword, her reflection staring right back at her. Her heart was hammering against her chest. Leliana was just barely smiling at her, a knowing twinkle in her eye. Cassandra’s words echoed in her head, and a part of her wanted to tell Cassandra to take the lead instead.

But her talk with Mother Giselle rang forward. Those people down there believed strongly in her… and she could not let them—or the rest of the world—down. They believed in her. They showed their unabashed loyalty every time they stood at her side. The Council took her word seriously. And above all the people she never thought would warm up to her, _Cassandra_ was there to see that she took the helm. The woman who was ready to hack Alyve’s head off with one swing of her sword actually trusted her enough to lead them all.

With a swooping bout of confidence, Alyve grabbed the hilt of the sword tightly. The ornate metal was cold against her skin, the blade glistening in the morning sun. She regarded her reflection again. The old scars on her face were now the cousins to new ones scattered across her entire body. Her eyes were overflowing with sights that plagued her dreams, her nightmares, her waking memories. Her brow almost always furrowed in thought, and now was no different.

“Corypheus will never let me live in peace. He made that clear,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “He intends to be a god, to rule over us all.” Her fist clenched tighter along the hilt, gritting her teeth. “Corypheus _must_ be stopped.”

“Wherever you lead us,” said Cassandra. She moved to the edge of the landing and shouted, “Have our people been told?”

Josephine stepped forward to the front of the crowd. “They have! And soon the world.” Her voice was strong, her smile made to match.

“Commander, will they follow?”

Cullen boldly turned around to stand beside Josephine and called into the crowd, “Inquisition! Will you follow?” Everyone roared with their approval, throwing their hands in the air. “Will you fight?” The cheering grew louder. “Will we triumph!?” The noise level hit ear-splitting. “Your leader! Your Herald!” Cullen drew his sword and thrust it in Alyve’s direction. “Your _Inquisitor_!”

Her thoughts were racing a mile a minute the longer Alyve stared down at the crowd. The energy was contagious, spreading like a virus along the thrums of people. Iron Bull had Harding on his shoulders as she hollered in approval, Sera seemed to set aside her reservations about the Inquisition and was leaping up and down, bumping into a _very_ patient Vivienne, the mage herself clapping placidly. Dorian and Varric were chanting something in unison that Alyve could not hear. Blackwall, and a number of other soldiers, had unsheathed their swords alongside Cullen. The only one who seemed to be reserved was Solas, but Alyve did not pay him any mind.

Humbled and honored, Alyve pressed a fist to her chest in thanks before confidently lifting her sword up high in response to the rest. The sword should have been heavy, especially for someone who rarely ever held swords, but the boost of adrenaline and excitement provided her with the strength to lift such a magnificent weapon. The noise burst louder, if that were even possible. Even Josephine forgot herself, throwing her hands in the air excitedly, only stopping when Cullen sent her a curious glance, although there was a hint of a teasing smile on his face. She cleared her throat, turning her head from him, hoping he would let such a lack of decorum go.

* * *

The rebuilding of Skyhold continued. Alyve constantly met with her War Council to discuss what they should do next, especially since they knew Corypheus’ next move was to assassinate Empress Celene. When, they were not sure, but Leliana was tasked to keep an eye on the Empress. Alyve was feeling the first flickers of fear since she saw the supposed darkspawn in the flesh. She had been so preoccupied with the events leading up to her coronation as Inquisitor that she hadn’t had the time to dwell on her worries. It was a blessing in and of itself, but it did not last long.

Varric kept hinting at Alyve that he was expecting important company, but that had been throughout the weeks of rebuilding. Whether or not she believed him was beside the point. She just hoped that this “important company” would be a liable resource in assisting the Inquisition. When she had mentioned this briefly to Cassandra, asking if she had any idea who this company might be, Cassandra’s face had clouded over and she said darkly, “It better not be who I’m thinking if he knows what’s good for him…”

Alyve decided not to ask again.

She had to carefully choose how they would proceed next while they waited anxiously, so she focused her efforts on helping throughout Thedas in an attempt to somewhat restore order before plunging headfirst into a new challenge that would have them all running around like mad. She would consult with her council and have them send their people out instead of Alyve taking her leave. She still was not fully healed, her bandages just barely removed not too long ago. She was getting restless, but she knew that she should overlook her people at Skyhold first before she returned to the wilds.

A couple of days after she was declared Inquisitor, Alyve was making her way back into the main castle when Josephine caught up with her.

“Inquisitor! There you are,” she said, clutching her board to her chest, fingers stained with ink. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“You’ve found me,” said Alyve, offering her a smile. “I’m surprised you didn’t wait for me to come and call instead.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d stop for conversation with how busy everything has become,” said Josephine.

“Nonsense. I can always make time for you.”

Josephine tried to not let such a comment create butterflies in her stomach, but it did anyway. She might not have mentioned it to Alyve, but her memory of the night of the party was as clear as day. She often found herself daydreaming about how close Alyve had gotten to her, how they could have kissed right then and there, only to blame it on inebriation.

Her affections geared toward the Inquisitor were the furtherest thing from professional and friendly. And she was finding difficulty in coming to terms with such emotions. Besides, Alyve couldn’t actually be serious about her. She was being kind and Josephine had to remind herself of that.

Meanwhile Alyve also remembered that night, but did not want to bring it up to Josephine lest it fluster her. She cursed herself for allowing herself to fall completely for Josephine, but it had honestly happened without her really thinking about it. Oh, how she wanted to kiss Josephine that night… and damn Leliana for stepping in when she did. Yet Alyve thanked the Maker that Leliana even appeared, otherwise a kiss might have ruined everything.

One would think neither of them would have enough downtime to think of such affections, but they had been working in tandem for most of the rebuilding and were in constant contact during meetings. So, even during the moments where they weren’t together, they still dwelled on the events of the day, which consisted of nothing but each other.

Not that either of them minded, of course.

“I was just inspecting our new headquarters,” Josephine pushed through, ignoring her trembling hands from being in the mere presence of Alyve. She gripped her board a little tighter, steadying herself. “Even with all the progress we’ve made, I still manage to find things that need our attention. Foundation cracks, nesting animals… not to mention we are miles from any centers of civilization. The staff _must_ make it presentable if we’re to receive any visitors of distinction.”

“It certainly would do for the Inquisition to appear…” She searched for a way to put it delicately. “Overly-shabby. Dignitaries might not find its rustic appearance charming.”

Josephine cracked a smile. “Yes, my thoughts exactly. Home and comfort for us might not be for someone else.”

“Right. Well, I’ll approve what you think is necessary to ensure a clean and prosperous environment.”

“Thank you. I think it would bode well for everyone in the end. A clean and healthy keep should keep our healers happy, too. We’ve only just now convinced everyone we are precisely what Thedas requires… albeit at great cost. Nothing we could have foreseen, however.”

“How’s morale?”

“Actually, it’s quite high. Our soldiers are training harder, the pub is filled to the brim once it gets dark, and we’ve been getting more willing recruits day by day. Not only that, but the Mages are showing great trust in you. I understand that there are still some people that tread lightly around them. And after all they’ve gone through, they need to feel safe here.”

“The Mages or everyone?”

“Everyone. Trust in magic is not one that is gained easily, and trust in men and women who once hunted down said magic is also difficult to gain. I fear that Cullen and Fiona are just barely grasping their people from fighting one another.”

“We’ll keep an eye on the situation. I’ll also be sure to call the two of them for a meeting to discuss their opinions on how to keep things civil.”

“Excellent.”

“With all that’s happening… do you not feel safe here?”

Josephine frowned slightly. “Regarding the Templars and the Mages? No, I feel just fine. It’s more regarding… Well, I’ve had… difficulty forgetting Corypheus’ attack on Haven.”

The pair of them paused on the very landing where Alyve was titled. Alyve spared her Anchored hand a glance, the power ebbing in the center of her palm. Solas had taken a look at it the other day and said that Corypheus had definitely sparked something new within the Anchor during their encounter. It made sense to her. After all, she suddenly had that ability to create mini-rifts above her enemies. Not to mention how the Anchor burned as Corypheus clutched her in his grasp. It had sparked and spluttered, and she felt as though she was on the verge of death.

So, she certainly wasn't the only one who was finding trouble in setting aside those memories. She could only imagine the fear everyone else felt as Haven was assaulted.

"Yes, I understand," she told Josephine. "It's definitely been a burden on all of us."

Josephine’s voice grew solemn as she asked, “Do you know who first leapt to arms?” Alyve was ashamed to admit that she didn’t. She merely shook her head, distrusting her own words. “Our workers.” Her voice came out gently, noting the heavy silence.

"They... what?"

“They were so _proud_ of our cause. Corypheus simply cut them down." Josephine took in a shaking breath. "So much screaming after that first blast of fire. So many people turned to ash…”

Alyve choked up, squeezing her eyes shut. In all this time, she hadn’t given them a second thought due to all that had been set on her plate. And it filled her with regret for not giving them a proper thank you in her prayers. “I had no idea that they had... I wish I... Maker's breath… what sort of leader am I?”

“One who did all she could with what she had,” said Josephine. “They were brave souls who believed in the Inquisition the same way you did. Nobody thinks less of you for keeping to task. Now you know, and I have faith in you that you’ll do what’s right and proper for our fallen.”

Nodding, “I will. We lost far too many good people to that monster.”

Josephine set her hand on Alyve’s arm, giving it a supportive squeeze. “I’m sure they’ll find rest with the Maker. If you’d like, I can make preparations for a small ceremony.”

“Yes. That’d bode well for everyone.”

"If anything, it's definitely a good first step toward the Inquisition's future in Skyhold. It will show our people that we are all equals in this fight."

"The people who work shouldn't have to give their lives when we've got soldiers."

"Perhaps, but it just goes to show how inspiring the cause of righteousness can be."

Alyve wiped under her eyes and let out a calming breath. "Maybe you're right."

“In any case, thank you for the report, Josephine. I appreciate it.”

“Of course."

They kept on walking, passing into the castle's main hall. The throne that Alyve thought was truly unnecessary stood at the very end. Two guards were posted beside it as though someone would try and sit where they didn't belong. As though Alyve would care. All around them were their allies, soldiers taking a break, and those seeking refuge. They sat at the long tables, enjoying the provided food and drink that the kitchens put out this afternoon.

"And before I return to my duties," Josephine continued, trying to turn to mood around, "allow me to congratulate you on your appointment as Inquisitor, my Lady. I have not had the chance to since we’ve all been so busy with restoring Skyhold. Know that I will now bring diplomatic issues to your attention, and I am more than happy to help with any situations that arise.”

“So, not much has changed,” Alyve teased lightly.

“No, I suppose not,” said Josephine, smiling.

"Well, thank you, Lady Montilyet. I look forward to seeing how our continuing collaboration will thrive."

"As do I."

"I must admit, being apointed Inquisitor was rather daunting."

"You are humble when presented with power. Such a trait will keep you sane."

Alyve chuckled. "Oh?"

"Indeed. Power can go to the heads of many leaders, as I'm sure you are aware. Being given a position of power and be overwhelmed with thankfulness and, perhaps, uncertainty are the markings of a great leader. You are no monarch, but you still govern in a way. But such humility makes you relatable and down to Earth."

"I hope I can maintain that atitude."

"Considering you tend to remain rather level with your peers, I think you'll do just fine, my Lady. We all believe in you."

"I can't believe _everyone_ agreed..."

"Nobody raised any objections when it was discussed. As far as we know, someone might have had an opposing opinion, but did not want to voice it after witnessing such enthusiasm." Josephine's eyes sparkled. "I, for one, think you will make a great Inquisitor."

"You do?"

"Of course. Of that, I have no doubt."

By now, they had reached the door that led into Josephine’s center of operations, but Alyve was not quite done talking to Josephine. She stood a bit in front of the handle, hands behind her back and prepared to open the door if Josephine declined this next offer.

“I’m loath to part from such pleasant company,” she said, her eyes fixed against Josephine’s. “Would you care to walk the rest of the castle with me?”

“Oh. Well, a tour, then? It is all new, isn’t it?” Josephine said, misunderstanding. “Let me fetch the steward.”

She was about to leave and do just that, but Alyve made a grab for her hand, catching it softly in her own. “That… isn’t precisely what I was hoping for.”

Every part of Josephine’s heart was screaming—begging—for her to say yes, to drop everything and go on what would truly be a lovely stroll throughout the castle with Alyve. But instead, she slipped her hand out of Alyve’s and forced herself to look away.

"Are you certain? They probably know the castle grounds more than I."

"I... I'm certain. I don't need a tour."

“Well, do let me know if you change your mind,” she said quickly. “I must find someone to prepare the guest quarters.”

Alyve’s shoulders slumped in defeat and she opened the door for Josephine. “Another time, perhaps,” she said, crestfallen.

Josephine did not respond. She walked briskly to her desk and buried herself in her work, well aware that Alyve was hovering in the doorway. As soon Alyve gave up and moved on, Josephine set down her pen and buried her face in her hands.

_This is exactly what you get for feeling this way_, she scolded herself, fighting back tears of humiliation.

* * *

“Why so moody?”

Alyve peered over the edge of the wall she was sitting on to see Dorian smiling up at her. He was the last person she expected to seek her out, but she didn’t really mind. Dorian reminded her greatly of her brother, and she genuinely enjoyed his company when he followed her out on a mission. She knew well enough to tread lightly around him since she did not know much of his history or motives, but he was making it easy to warm up to him.

“I’m not moody,” she insisted. “I’m just thinking. I’ve got a lot on my mind to consider.”

“You’re moody,” Dorian insisted, climbing up the wall with ease, sitting beside her. “I can see it in your brow.” He jabbed her right in the center, and it was then she realized it was indeed tight and furrowed, only loosening as his finger made contact. “Come on, what’s the matter? I’m always here for the latest gossip, you know.”

“I… I’ve just been acting a fool,” said Alyve.

“That is _not_ the latest gossip,” Dorian yawned, earning a glare. “What? Everything you’ve done is foolish. It’s not considered such because of the results! Come now, tell me that someone purposefully causing an avalanche, diving into an abandoned mine, and blindly stumbling through the snow—making it out _alive_, no less—doesn’t sound like something a fool would do.”

He had a point, but Alyve wasn’t about to tell him that. Knowing the kind of man Dorian was, she’d never hear the end of it.

“It’s not about the things I’ve done for the Inquisition,” said Alyve carefully. “It’s more of a personal matter.”

“Ah-ha!” He squared his shoulders. “Now _this_ is what I’m looking for. Is it about the rumor about you and Bull having that ongoing bet concerning who can fight the biggest, nastiest dragon?”

Taken aback, “What? No! There’s no such bet!”

“That’s good because _that_ would truly be foolish. Bull would obviously be the winner.”

“Gee, thanks, Dorian.”

“Of course!”

Alyve folded her arms over her chest, beating the wall with the heels of her feet. Dorian grew bored of the silence and elbowed her in the shoulder.

“Go on, then,” he said. “What is it? Perhaps I can be of service to such a plight.”

Well, she had to talk to _someone_ about it. Nobody else she knew would be as understanding since they all had their personal relationship with Josephine, seeing her as a figure of power and respect. And it wasn’t as though Alyve did not see her that way… she just worried that if she were to speak to Cassandra, for example, she would be told to set aside those feelings lest they get in the way of the more important, professional relationship. They wouldn't be wrong, but the advice would be something Alyve had already considered.

Dorian was not one to really take sides in such matters unless it benefited his own interests. Why he was even prodding Alyve for such information was beyond her, but he was the only outlet who was the most middle ground at the moment.

“I have feelings for someone,” she said finally.

“Is that so!?” Dorian said loudly.

“_Shh_!” Alyve hissed. “Keep it down. I don’t want people knowing this. Not now, at least.”

Wiggling his brows, “May I ask who it is?”

“I’d rather not—”

“I cannot help you if I don’t _know_ who it is. You know, I can be quite the expert in these sort of affairs.”

Sarcastically, “Oh, right?”

He ignored her quip. “Indeed. Now, please. Tell me who has the honor of holding the very heart of our darling Inquisitor.”

“It’s… Josephine.”

He opened his mouth, but found himself completely tongue-tied. Dorian had readied himself with a smart-aleck remark regarding how he’d eventually swoop in and steal her man away, but he hadn’t the slightest idea that Alyve was on his side in the world of romantic inclinations, i.e. the same sex. He softened at once, frowning sympathetically as he stared into the void of uncertainty on Alyve’s face, one he was all too familiar with.

“Is it regarding whether or not she fancies women?” he wondered.

“That isn’t it,” said Alyve. “Although, that’d be good to know for certain.”

“I can always find that out for you,” he said.

Alyve blinked. “Why are you suddenly keen on helping me?”

“I’ve been exactly where you are. _Exactly_.” He inclined his head knowingly, and Alyve immediately got the message.

"You too?"

"Me too." He sighed. "I know the struggle. A bit too much, for my liking."

"I just wish I knew what to do..."

“As far as your feelings in general, what’s stopping you from pursuing her?”

“There are many factors.” She shrugged. “For instance, I am technically superior to her. Not that I _act_ like it, but it’s true. With that in mind, she would obviously be apprehensive to court me. Plus, I truly don’t believe she’s interested. I had offered to take a walk with her yesterday afternoon, but she either misunderstood me, or she knew what I was trying to do and avoided it altogether.” With a sad sigh, “Therefore, I am a fool.”

“Love makes fools of us all,” said Dorian wisely, an almost nostalgic smile on his face as he gazed into the distance. “I wish there was more I could do for you.”

“This was… this was perfect. For now.” Alyve squeezed his shoulder gratefully. “Thank you, Dorian.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, but when Alyve laughed, he laughed with her.

* * *

Leliana peered up from the War Table at Josephine, who had been quiet for most of the meeting. With their numbers spread thin throughout Thedas, they had spent the better part of the day strategizing their next move. Alyve had taken to the Hissing Wastes with Sera, Cassandra, and Vivienne to assist their camps after a staggering attack from Red Templars. Therefore, the Inquisitor was not present for the meeting.

It had left Josephine alone with her thoughts. While she cursed herself for not taking that walk with Alyve, she also praised herself for not letting her feelings get the better of her. However, she had been so absent-minded during the meeting that Cullen was the one who truly took the reigns. Not that he minded, but even he noticed Josephine’s silence.

“I think what we’ve decided should bode us well,” said Cullen, exchanging a knowing glance with Leliana. “I must return to my study and send off some missives to my contacts. Good afternoon, Leliana. Josephine.”

Josephine didn’t even spare a glance at the War Table as she started for the door. Leliana quickly darted in front of her, blocking her path.

"Leliana?” Josephine seemed to snap out of it, but just barely.

“We need to talk,” said Leliana, gently pushing Josephine back into the room.

“I’ve work to get done.”

“You won’t get anything done when your head isn’t even on your shoulders.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

Leliana pursed her lips. “Josie, I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re not present. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course!”

"Then you know you can tell me anything.” In truth, Leliana had a hunch that this had to do with the flirtatious interaction she had with Alyve at the party. The last time she saw her so giddy over another person was back when she knew a much younger Josephine in the heart of Val Royeaux. Back then, Josephine didn’t hide it the way she did now. Her decorum was less so, and the man who held her heart was not her superior, but a fellow Bard.

He turned out to be a lying bastard, and Leliana wanted to kill him after he broke Josephine’s heart. In fact, she kept an eye on him to this very day, plotting his ultimate humiliation. She vowed to keep Josephine’s heart safe until she deemed whoever was next worthy enough to care for the ambassador.

Still, Leliana knew the lovesick Josephine all too well. It was in her eyes… but also within those eyes was worry, anxiety. Alyve was new territory—not that Josephine hadn’t wooed women before. Alyve was just different: impulsive yet had a heart of gold, awkward yet retained the ability to speak eloquently, and she was not afraid to tell people like it was but spared the feelings of others when she found appropriate. And of course, she was also a woman who now held a powerful title among those in Skyhold, Josephine included.

Like Josephine, Leliana had also dived into the Trevelyan archives when she first met Alyve, keen on finding out all she could about the Herald. She always made sure to keep an eye on her for both the Inquisitor’s safety _and_ for her own personal interest. She trusted Alyve, but in this particular case, she was just another suitor that could potentially break Josephine’s heart. Not to mention, Leliana had also fawned over a hero in her youth, and the struggle to maintain a distance when one’s heart was crying for closeness was not lost on her.

When Josephine didn't respond, Leliana pressed, "You _do_ know you have a safe place with me, right?"

“Yes, I know,” sighed Josephine, leaning against the War Table. “But this… this is a difficult topic.”

“Is it about how you fancy the Inquisitor?”

Josephine stiffened and immediately started to stammer, “That—no! Of course I… can’t possibly… what ever gave you such—Oh, Leliana, you jest.”

But Leliana didn’t smile and shout “fooled you!” like Josephine was hoping. Nor did she laugh it off and drop the subject entirely. She kept fixing her with that horrendously serious expression that made Josephine sweat nervously. The ambassador fiddled with her pen, avoiding the spymaster’s hawk-like gaze lest it burn through to her very soul.

“It’s obvious,” said Leliana.

Panicked, “What—!?”

Adding quickly, “To me, at least. I don’t think the Inquisitor, or anyone, for that matter, has any idea. I just happen to have the fortune of having a history with you, so I know the kind of person you are and how you look when you like someone.”

“This is schoolgirl gossip,” said Josephine hotly.

“I’m trying to _help_ you.” Leliana took a step forward. “I know you’re fighting these feelings. I can practically see that internal battle going on in that intelligent brain of yours. It’s right there… right behind your eyes.”

Josephine nibbled her bottom lip, debating if she should finally admit defeat and confess her feelings to Leliana… or if she should tell her to shove it and march back to her duties. But Leliana had a point: she knew Josephine all too well. And she was not judging her for having these rising affections. At least, she wasn’t judging her _yet_.

With a reluctant sigh, Josephine said, “Alright. Yes, I have feelings for Alyve.” Out with formalities. This was a conversation between friends. “You must make a fool of me.”

“Quite the contrary,” said Leliana, offering her a kind smile. “You can have your romantic moments and emotions. It’s the Bard still within you.”

Josephine scowled. “Do _not_ remind me.”

“Sorry. Look, Josie, Alyve is a rather attractive woman. She’s charming and kind—not to mention, you’ve got her wrapped around your finger. There’s a lot to like about her. That’s not wrong.”

“No, but it’s _very_ unprofessional.”

“My main concern,” said Leliana, plowing through the ridiculousness of properness, “is that you’re going to get your heart broken by her.”

Josephine paused. “What do you mean?”

“Not that I think Alyve would _break_ your heart, but this flirting she’s doing—”

“She’s not flirting.”

“She is, but that’s beside the point. I don’t know if she’s serious.” Josephine wilted, and Leliana immediately regretted her choice of words. She shook her head and tried a different approach, “I mean… she’s certainly got some kind of… oh, please don’t look at me like that.”

Josephine’s eyes were swimming with tears. She locked her jaw, gripping her pen firmly in her hand. “She asked me to go on a walk with her,” she said, voice strained.

“Okay, that’s a good sign!” Leliana jumped on that immediately. “And did you?”

“No.” When Leliana shot her a look of surprise, she said, “Because I cannot have these feelings, Leliana.”

Leliana believed otherwise, but she kept her mouth shut. Sometimes Josephine was an immovable force and she just had to leave her be to sort herself out. So, she simply sighed heavily and shrugged. “Whatever the case, please tread lightly. For your own sake. I don’t think these feelings are foolish, but I will be keeping an eye out to ensure things don’t go south. Alright?”

“…Okay.”

“And about the walk: don’t bring it up to her again. Just move on and pretend like nothing happened. I’m sure Alyve has dropped it and did not take the rejection personally. And… don’t be afraid to accept such an invitation next time. A walk is a walk. You are friends, after all.”

Josephine nodded, thanking Leliana quietly as she was finally relinquished from the interrogation. She pressed forward back into the study and collapsed into her seat, rubbing her temples. Part of her wanted to believe Leliana, wanted to believe that Alyve was indeed flirting with her. The other part told her she was being silly and was creating the delusion of grandeur regarding her love life.

Deciding to distract herself, she dove back into her work. She’d dwell on this another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Warden romanced Leliana in Origins, btw, so that will be mentioned every now and again.
> 
> Peace, love, all that stuff.
> 
> Until next time!


	5. The Little Moments

_Just go in there. Just say hello… it’s no big deal, you’re allowed to do that._

With all her might, Alyve willed herself to open the door to Josephine’s study. She wandered in further, surprised to find Leliana standing by Josephine’s desk, both of them deep in a serious discussion. Alyve made her presence known with a small cough, prompting the two women to break from their conversation. Josephine smiled pleasantly at her, but Leliana… Leliana sort of nodded stiffly and almost forced a smile.

Alyve wondered what she did now to earn such a cold welcome from the spymaster. _Shit_, she thought, _did Josephine tell Leliana of my awkward attempt at having some alone time?_

“Good afternoon, Inquisitor,” said Josephine pleasantly.

"Good afternoon, Ambassador. Spymaster. I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Not at all. We were just about finished."

“If you need anything further, let me know, Josie,” said Leliana, not taking her eyes off Alyve.

“I shall. Thank you, Leliana.”

Leliana bowed shortly in Alyve’s direction and took her leave. Alyve practically felt the chill as she walked by.

“What was that about?” Alyve asked once they were alone.

“We are in the midst of cementing an alliance with Lady Forsythia of Nevarra, your Worship,” said Josephine, and Alyve refrained from explaining that she actually was referring to Leliana's attitude. Perhaps she was better off not knowing the enigmatic ways of their spymaster. “It’s become a somewhat… delicate task.”

Alyve pursed her lips. “Should I post guards outside you room?”

“That should be unnecessary, Inquisitor,” said Josephine, laughing slightly. “I dissuaded her from sending soldiers when she learned we’d struck an accord with a brother she’s feuding with. Lady Forsythia… simply employs a colorful manner of speech.

“You’re rather good-natured about threats of death and dismemberment. I must say, it doesn’t get any easier.”

Josephine sent her a reproachful look. “Don’t remind me of all the threats I have to sift through regarding _you_, my Lady.”

“Send them my way next time,” said Alyve. “I’ll be sure to toss them right in the fire.”

“Whether it’s about you or me, they are chiefly bluster, Inquisitor. Most of them.” She stood from her desk, rubbing a kink from her neck. “But I confess I do miss my staff from the embassy in Antiva. It was always useful to discuss the day’s visitors with them.” She leaned her hip on her desk, arms crossed over her chest.

Alyve took an eager step forward. “I have time if you’d like to review things with me.”

The one piece of advice Dorian gave her last week was to play toward Josephine’s strengths and interests. Alyve had an advantage: she was not in the dark when it came to political matters. Although she absolutely detested them, she could easily keep up with Josephine’s vocabulary and knowledge of certain world events. When Dorian pointed that out, it surged a bit of hope in the distraught Inquisitor.

Josephine was secretly pleased to hear such a proposal, but she was still trying to curb her feelings. So she merely tried to excuse with, “I wouldn’t wish to impose.”

“If it were imposing, I wouldn’t have offered.”

“Well…” Josephine couldn’t argue with that logic. Not to mention, Leliana encouraged her to accept another offer. “I admit there are a few potential alliances it would be good to discuss… especially given your family’s own history in political matters.”

“I’m all ears, Lady Montilyet. Why don’t we go to my quarter’s balcony? It has a magnificent view of the mountains.”

“That sounds divine.”

* * *

“—_right_ on the parlor floor. In front of everyone at the soiree!” Josephine exclaimed. “Who does such a thing in front of their guests!?”

“The Duke of Kellington, apparently,” snickered Alyve, shrugging helplessly.

Alyve never knew how truly animated Josephine could get when she talked. And as the afternoon melted into the evening while they spoke, Alyve picked up on Josephine’s mannerisms more so than ever before. The way her nose crinkled whenever she scowled at unpleasant memories, how her hands moved in exasperation, how her finger would twirl the loose hair dangling along the side of her face when she carefully listened to Alyve speak—although Alyve truly did not do much speaking. Not that she minded, of course.

She was letting Josephine vent. And vent she did. There was so much frustration that the ambassador had stored inside and she had nobody willing to take it off her shoulders. Nobody, until now.

“And Sera!” Josephine huffed, leaning against the railing of the balcony, shaking her head. “Can she not find a single overshirt without mustard stains on it?” Alyve had to physically contain a laugh. “Then there’s Dorian. The man _refuses_ to take anything seriously unless it suits his whim.”

“Dorian isn’t so bad,” said Alyve kindly.

“No?”

“No, he’s… he’s proven himself to be an honorable man.” Alyve then smirked and added, “Well, when he wants to be.”

“Exactly!” Josephine scoffed. “Not to mention…” She paused, blinking as she took in her surroundings, noting the sun’s position in the sky and how it bathed the mountains with its golden lights. “Oh, goodness. Have we been here an hour already?”

Alyve chuckled. “Two and a half hours, I think, but no one’s counting.”

Josephine allowed herself to giggle at that. But soon her smile melted from her face, realizing all the things she had said in front of Alyve—the _Inquisitor_. “Oh, dear,” she whispered, standing straight and nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t intend to go on for so long. You must think me quite the gossip.”

“Gossip? Not at all.”

"The things I said were very unbecoming."

"Josephine, if I know anything about you, it's that you like peace and order. When people disrupt that, I get that it can be a little... difficult. Sometimes you just have to let out your frustrations. I don't think any less of you for saying what you feel."

“Maybe not, but such scornful talk must be unpleasant to hear.”

“Spending time with such an engaging woman is never unpleasant, Lady Montilyet,” said Alyve honestly, her tone rich and warm. She had to admit, there was something to be said about flirting with formalities.

It certainly did its job when the ambassador looked away bashfully. “Goodness. I’m… well, I’m glad I haven’t wasted your day. I’ve taken up quite enough of your time already…” She started for the open doors, stealing a glance over her shoulder at a still smiling Inquisitor. “Until next time, Alyve.”

“I look forward to it, Josephine.”

* * *

“Who rules Antiva, exactly?” Alyve asked.

Josephine paused her search across the spines of books. “Officially,” she said slowly, “the principality of Antica is governed by his Majesty King Fulgeno II. In _reality_, Antiva’s merchant princes rule the country in everything but name.” She chuckled wryly, “Quite loudly, I might add.”

She and Alyve were in the castle’s library, Alyve assisting her in collecting some important literature to assist on finding out more regarding the Grey Wardens. A couple of days ago, Varric’s contact, Hawke, had finally arrived. She had some information on Corypheus’ plans involving the Grey Wardens. So, after Alyve managed to prevent Cassandra from killing Varric for keeping Hawke out of their affairs until now, she tasked everyone to look into this lead.

They fortunately heard nothing further concerning Corypheus or the Grey Wardens, so while Cullen focused on their troops, Leliana was carefully watching Empress Celene’s every move, ready to alert the Inquisition of an opportunity to come to her aid and prevent the plotted assassination. Things have been quiet, so Alyve was doing her best to be everywhere at once. She was preparing to journey to The Western Approach to meet with Hawke’s own contact, slowly making waves for the Inquisition’s next big move. But before she pressed forward, she wanted to gather all the information she could about the Grey Wardens. Leliana provided some intel from her time fighting alongside a few Wardens she became close with, and was giving her word that she was in close contact with at least one Warden. Blackwall was no help, unfortunately, and nobody knew why.

Alyve was also using her free time in Skyhold to cozy up to Josephine with both friendly and romantic intentions. Josephine didn’t seem to mind, and welcomed Alyve’s assistance when offered. Although she only registered the interactions as friendly, still trying to stave off her own growing affections. With this downtime, Alyve kept to Dorian’s advice and engaged Josephine in discussions based on political matters.

“What sort of dealings did you have with these merchant families?” Alyve said, watching as Josephine scanned the books before settling on one. She plucked it from the shelf and set it atop the stack she had built in Alyve’s arms. “Wait a moment, this isn’t a book on Grey Wardens. This is a fictional novel. Is it a romance?” She craned her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the title.

“I need something new to read before bed,” Josephine said indignantly, prying Alyve's attention away from the book. “And to your question, as ambassador, I attended privy council meetings in a mediatory capacity.” She moved along the shelves, Alyve following after. “May I just say, one has never heard an argument until they’ve sat in on fifteen princes bowling down each other’s tariff suggestions.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. Such behavior from entitled men is why I prefer the company of women.”

“Me too, most of the time,” said Josephine distractedly.

"Oh, right?"

"Mhm. I've spent my time with both men and women until recently. I haven't quite had the time to engage in romantic inclinations since I became involved in politics." Josephine wanted to kick herself. She almost made herself sound as though she wasn't interested... and she wasn't! At least, that was what she was trying to tell herself.

Alyve moved on with the subject, much to Josephine's relief. “Well, if you must deal with legislation, at least it’s lively.”

Josephine hummed in agreement. “It’s all a part of life in Antiva. Our traditions value passion, and romance. A certain exuberance of style.”

Alyve paused, an incredulous smile on her face. “Are you _positive_ you’re Antivan?”

Josephine gasped and spun on her heel. “I can be _most_ exuberant!” Alyve lifted a teasing brow. “W-When it is called for! Just… at the right moments. And in a proper fashion.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Might we speak of something else?” she said hurriedly.

Laughing, “No way, you’re not getting away with this—explain to me a time where you’ve had to put that Antivan exuberance to good use.”

“Why must you torment me?” A poor attempt at hiding a smile betrayed her dismayed words. Alyve merely grinned and leaned forward expectantly. “Oh, you’re just like Leliana, you know.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Be careful—her study is one floor above us.”

“That’s why I’m taking it as a compliment, Lady Montilyet. Now please, I’d like to see an example of this exuberance your people pride themselves on.”

Josephine took in a deep breath, eyes darting around to make sure nobody else was watching. "Must you?"

"It's a different side of you. I'll never ask you to do it again. Please?" Alyve sarcastically batted her lashes at her.

"Alright. Just this once."

Nodding in agreement. "Just this once."

When she was sure the coast was clear, Josephine pulled forth her experiences as a Bard: the subtle, fleeting glances, the flirtatious smiles, the placement of her hands. They were all key ways to get her way when she participated in the Game as a young woman, and she had to admit she missed the thrill of watching the flushed faces of her clients. And she only wondered what would happen when she put those skills to good use upon the object of her growing affections.

She closed her eyes for just a moment before allowing them to flutter open to a lazily lidded state, batting her lashes slowly at the captivated Inquisitor. She let her painted lips curl into a seductive little smirk over her pearly whites, tilting her head to the side just enough to display mild interest and distant aloofness all at once. She took one step closer and set her hand on Alyve’s, uncaring that it was helping the other carry her stack of books. Alyve physically jumped, wide-eyed and red-faced.

Josephine found that making her react in such a way sparked an excitement in her stomach. She took it no further, however. Instead, she retracted her hand, easily returning to her normal self in the blink of an eye.

“By the Maker,” the Inquisitor croaked. “Do you do that to every diplomat to get them to bend to your will?”

Josephine burst out laughing. “Goodness no! Such practices were mine long ago. So, no, I keep _that_ to myself. Satisfied with my Antivan exuberance, your Worship?”

In truth, Alyve wanted to see much more, but she kept her mouth shut about it. “That was great. Thanks.”

“I hope it goes without saying to keep that little display to yourself.”

_I wouldn’t want to share that with anyone else._ “Of course. Uh… moving on.” Another laugh from the ambassador rang through the library. “How about you tell me more about home. What’s the land like in Antiva?”

Josephine sighed wistfully, the mood shifting. “The settled areas are quite lush. The vineyards run as far as the eye can see in some places. Antiva City, however, perches right up against the Rialto Bay.” She got lost in memories as she said, “That’s what I miss most. The sea crashing against the maze of the docks…”

“I’ll admit, I have difficulty seeing you wandering around a trading port.”

“_Everyone_ in Antiva City spends time by the ships, my Lady.” They began to make their way back downstairs, Josephine grabbing a couple of books from Alyve to help in their descent. “The finest restaurants and poets all make their habitation by the sea. The waterfront’s never still. Lanterns are lit along the promenade no matter what the weather.”

“Are you ever homesick?”

“Occasionally. When a breeze stirs the trees in the garden, I sometimes pretend it’s the sound of the surf.” Another sigh, eyes staring miles away. “Do you know, I even miss those terrible squawking birds infesting the harbor. My younger sister used to throw whole loaves of bread to the gulls.” She shook her head lovingly. “Silly thing.”

Alyve was stunned by such nostalgia coming from Josephine. She painted such a picture, and Alyve somewhat envied her for having pleasant memories of home.

“It sounds beautiful,” Alyve said as they reached the landing. “I hope I get to visit one day.”

“If you do, I must come along,” said Josephine, leading her back to the study. “I’ll be sure to show you around.”

“I look forward to it. I couldn't ask for a better guide."

They finally reached her study, and Alyve set down her stack of books atop Josephine’s desk. The ambassador followed, rounding the table and taking a seat.

“You’re very curious this morning,” she said, peering up at Alyve. “Did you have any more questions, your Worship?”

“Yes, actually. You said back in Haven that your family used to run an entire trading fleet. What happened?”

Josephine smiled wryly. “Simply put, there was a scandal in Val Royeaux, more than an age ago. The Montilyets were forbidden from trading with Orlais. Our personal fortunes never quite rebounded.”

Alyve cocked her head to the side. “I wonder why my parents never mentioned…”

“We received great assistance from the Trevelyans,” said Josephine. “They were very discreet as to not damage our reputation further. We owe much to your family. In fact, it was around that time our families began the alliance.”

“Does anyone in Orlais even remember what that scandal was?” Alyve wondered, a bit upset on Josephine’s behalf.

“I doubt it, but the injunction persists.”

“That’s stupid.”

Josephine forced down a smile. “That is your opinion, Inquisitor. Sadly, it will not change history.”

“What exactly happened anyway? It had to have been quite the scandal for such a dire consequence.”

“An affair with a minor lord… perhaps. Most other details are lost.”

“Are you really telling me that your family’s livelihood was ruined because of a love affair no one even remembers?” She was appalled, and Josephine was slightly touched by such a reaction. “_This_ is precisely why I hate politics.”

Josephine actually laughed at that. “Essentially. Orlesian politics are full of these unhappy little missteps, I’m afraid.”

“What about the rest of your family? What are they doing while you’re here with us?”

“Well… my parents are alive, and in good health. They live in our estate in Antiva City.” Josephine leaned back in her chair. “Of my four siblings, most attend to the running of the family vineyards—” She lurched forward suddenly, snatching her pen and jotting something down. “That reminds me! I must ask someone to make sure Yvette attends the spring reception at the palace!” When she caught the confused look on Alyve’s face, she said, “My youngest sister has no head for social engagements.”

“Why are you overseeing your siblings’ social lives?”

Josephine shrugged modestly. “It’s Antivan custom. After a certain age, their heir apparent runs the family’s estate to prove they’re worthy of succession. If you’re unfit for the task, the heads of the house—usually one’s parents—may decree a new heir.”

Alyve gaped at her. “So, you’re doing all that _and_ run the political ongoings of the Inquisition?”

“I am.”

"How are you even managing?"

"I'm doing my very best." Josephine shrugged modestly. "And that's all I can do."

“Okay, so what do these Antivan ‘heads of the household’ do if they don’t run it?”

“They work and provide guidance. I’ve taken advice from my parents. Well, mostly Mother. Father’s more of an artist. It’s rather gauche, but we never can dissuade him from running is own salons.” Josephine chuckled softly. “Between him and my siblings, Mother’s looking forward to my taking over the estate.”

“I imagine there must be give and take between a family heir and their parents?”

“There is a fair amount to arbitration. ‘Bickering,’ if one is less polite. But managing the estate is my duty. As much work as it is, I will not shirk it.”

“Running your family’s estate is that important to you, then.”

“I’m responsible for their welfare. A Montilyet _never_ shuns their familial duty.” She inclined her head, understanding Alyve’s minor animosity toward such a large responsibility upon Josephine’s shoulders. “Taxing as those duties can sometimes be.”

“Is it possible you’re too finicky to give those responsibilities to the rest of your family?” Alyve said, smiling slyly.

“You don’t know them!” Josephine sounded exhausted just thinking about it. “Put Laurien in charge? Or Antoine? Or _Yvette_?” She froze, images of disaster running through her head as she dared to entertain the very thought. “No, truly—it _must_ be me.”

Alyve laughed warmly. “Fair enough.”

“So, enough about me.” Josephine raised her brows. “What about you? I feel as though I barely know _you_ beyond the Inquisition. Tell me about your family.”

She had told herself to table this type of discussion with Alyve months ago. With how their friendship has been blossoming, and all the questions Alyve just asked her, she felt as though she could prod just a tad. And, instead of clamming up and running away, Alyve walked around Josephine’s desk to lean against the wall behind her. She intended on staying, much to Josephine’s pleasure.

Alyve owed her answers, that was for sure, and she knew it all too well. “What do you want to know?” she said.

“For starters, I’d like to know about your brother, if you don’t mind?” Josephine had turned herself to face Alyve completely, showing that she had every intention on listening carefully. “You clearly admire him. He was a Templar, no?”

“He was. It’s customary in my family to either take with the Templars or the Chantry. His name was Lysander. He was five years older than me… I loved him to pieces.” Like Josephine dwelling on Antiva, Alyve took a trip down memory lane. However, she was cursed with a sad smile on her face rather than one of distant yet joyful nostalgia. “He would carry me on his shoulders when I was little. He and I played all sorts of imaginary games in our garden. He tried teaching me how to sword fight, but we quickly learned that I was abysmal with a blade. He suggested archery, and I never looked back. He was my hero. I hated seeing him go off with the Templars. It was like a piece of my heart was being ripped from my chest.

“He wrote to me when he could. I’d eagerly wait for our courier to arrive with updates on his wellbeing. Sometimes he would send me little trinkets from the far off places he’d visit, making sure to describe them in great detail because he knew I wanted to see all of Thedas one day. But soon his letters stopped coming as often once the war started. I’d get one every now and again, but they’d be rushed. Lysander didn’t sound like himself anymore. He seemed scared and unsure of himself. The last thing I remember he wrote to me was ‘I want to come home.’

“Then, our final update came one month after that letter. We were told that he… that he… died in the civil war.” She took great interest in the floor, her fingers fiddling in front of her stomach, tears rolling down her cheeks. Josephine slowly got to her feet and approached Alyve, standing before her in case she needed support. Alyve could just barely see Josephine’s shoes in front of her own. It was comforting to know that she wasn’t alone in the room.

She kept going, “I cried for days. My parents… changed. While they never really approved of my rebellion, they never prevented me from doing so, either. With Lysander gone, they only had me. He was the Trevelyan heir apparent, like you are to the Montilyets. And while we don’t have the whole estate custom like you have, he was supposed to inherit most of our assets. I was expected to get married and continue someone else’s bloodline. My brother never had such an expectation.

“You see, my parents don’t know that I prefer the company of women. I don’t know how they’d take it, honestly.” Her voice quivered. “I think it would drive them mad if I were ever to tell them. It would be the ultimate betrayal. I defied my destiny every chance I got. I avoided parties, I took up archery, I shied from the Chantry and the Templars, I made plans to travel. But after Lysander passed on, all his responsibilities fell to me, on top of everything I already had. My parents knew that I wasn’t keen on being like him, so they put me in charge of representing the family across Thedas instead. I think it was their way to satiate my dream of traveling while still keeping me close to them… keeping me on a lead.

“I was somewhat successful. My first couple attempts I managed to keep my head down and play my part. I was miserable, but I did it anyway. My final attempt was, as you know, at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. And now I’m here. The last bit of contact I ever had with them was through that letter you had me send.”

“Do you want me to show you their reply?” asked Josephine.

Alyve shook her head. “No. Not now, anyway.”

“I’m sorry about Lysander. I think he would be very proud of you and all you’ve been doing for the Inquisition—for Thedas.”

“I like to think so, too.” Alyve lifted her head, smiling a watery smile at Josephine. “And I _am_ happy here. Sure, this whole thing still scares me to no end, but I’m doing everything I’ve wanted to do. Archery, traveling, _and_ I get to help people all the while. It’s odd having the responsibility I never wanted, but this? This was my choice ultimately. I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”

“That’s wonderful to hear.” Josephine took one of Alyve’s hands in her own, running her thumb over the back of her hand. Little shocks shimmied up Alyve’s arm, but she contained her reaction well. “After all, we wouldn’t be here without you.”

They shared a comfortable silence, gazing fondly into each other’s eyes. There was such a warm aura of understanding radiating off Josephine that Alyve was feeding off of. It made her feel loved, even if it was just for a moment. If Josephine never returned her feelings, that was fine by Alyve. She had a dear friend to count on no matter what. They had shared important pieces of their respective pasts, and it had brought them closer than ever before.

They stood there for a long while, only moving apart when the door opened and one of Josephine’s newly appointed staff members entered the room.

“Lady Ambassador, I have that missive for you to look over,” said the dwarf, unaware of the tender moment the two flustered women had been sharing.

“Yes, of course. Thank you.” Josephine nodded stiffly, taking it from her. “I will return it when I have made my edits.”

As the help took her leave, Alyve turned to the ambassador and smiled tightly. “It’s been a pleasure, Lady Montilyet. Thank you so much for all you’ve shared… including the little glimpse into your hidden exuberance.”

Josephine chuckled and shook her head. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into that.”

“I’ll consider myself lucky.” Alyve made for the exit. “I’ll let you get back to work. I shall see you another time soon.”

“Yes…” Josephine cast a frown toward the stack of books and papers on her desk before she piped up after Alyve. “Inquisitor,” she called, Alyve almost at the door. “Would… would you care to join me for some tea? I don’t _have_ to get to the missive right away. I can always do it later this evening.”

“I would love some tea,” said Alyve, grateful for such an offer. She wasn’t quite ready to be alone after a heavy conversation. “Thank you.”

Josephine set down the missive and met Alyve by the door. There they walked to the kitchens to fix themselves a soothing lunch of finger sandwiches, candies, and a strong pot of tea. They took it up to Alyve’s balcony and sat together, enjoying yet another long string of silence and each other’s company.

* * *

Alyve hated meetings with her War Council that went this way. The bickering, the snapping… and all following Alyve’s simple question on how they all thought she should proceed.

Last night, she had returned from the Western Approach, having met with Hawke’s contact, Stroud, who feared the worst for his brothers and sisters in arms. They had managed to track some Grey Wardens down near an ancient Tevinter ritual tower and nearly contained a rather gruesome situation, but the head of the operation, Livius Erimond, had escaped. They had to deal with the enslaved Wardens, a scene that Alyve found difficult to relay to her Council.

Now they had to figure out Erimond’s current location and then see what their next move was. Such a request sparked the heated discussion between the spymaster, commander, and ambassador, speaking as though Alyve wasn’t standing right before them, listening to every word.

“If we sent in a militia,” Josephine was saying, “we’re spelling out certain doom for everyone involved. The best course of action is sending out Leliana’s scouts while I make contact with—”

“That will take too much time!” yelled Cullen, almost appalled by her suggestion. “We can’t dally in polite conversation while we have a madman working alongside an even madder man!”

“Commander, _please_,” Josephine begged, her hands clutching her board. “In this case, running in blindly is not wise.”

“In _this_ case? Since when have I ever—?”

“I’m not saying you have, I’m just trying to explain that—”

“How can I expect you to understand the gravity of the situation,” said Cullen, shaking his head heavily. Josephine blinked in shock at such a condescending comment, hurt visible all over her face. “Sometimes we cannot rely on the fluff and formalities of politics when we have far more important things to worry about that require a call to arms!”

“Cullen, you forget yourself,” warned Leliana.

“How can you agree with her?” said Cullen, rounding on Leliana. “Wouldn’t you say we need to take immediate action that shows strength?”

“That is _enough_, Commander!” Alyve shouted, slamming her hands on the War Table. All three of them started back as her Anchored hand sparked for just a moment, her eyes boring into Cullen. “How _dare_ you speak that way to and about Ambassador Montilyet!?”

Cullen was at a loss for words. Even though he opened his mouth to retort, he found himself unable to think of anything to say. Leliana and Josephine watched in rapt attention as Alyve clenched her jaw, the furrow of her brows making her scars far more prominent.

“Just because she is suggesting something that does not involve the Templars does not mean the plan is a poor one. Commander, you have done some fantastic things for the Inquisition, but I’ve just about had it with you thinking your opinion is greater over that of the ambassador! Or Spymaster Leliana’s, for that matter!”

“Inquisitor, I…” Cullen trailed off, unsure of himself.

“I have a great deal of respect for all of you,” said Alyve, but her voice did not soften. “You all bring unique thought and talents to this Council, but here’s the honest truth, Commander: I could replace you like _that_.” Alyve snapped her left fingers, her Anchor lighting up just a bit more. “You’re not the first Templar commander and you certainly wouldn’t be the last. I’m sure someone like Cassandra could come in your stead and we’d do just fine. Ambassador Montilyet, however, brings along years of political experience, favors she can ask for from men and women from all across Thedas that still owe her one or two, contacts from people so deep within the political system that they’d be near impossible to find otherwise. And you, Commander? You bring soldiers. I’ve not seen much else besides an attitude.”

“Inquisitor, it’s quite alright,” Josephine tried, but Alyve held up a gentle hand in her direction.

“Maybe to you, Ambassador. I know you don’t like to ruffle feathers, but I needed to speak my piece.” Alyve drew herself up to her full height, staring Cullen down as he bowed his head in shame. “I suggest you reconsider your feelings regarding Lady Montilyet’s plan, Commander. Going in with flashing swords and flying arrows and whatever else doesn’t always create the results we want.” Cullen ducked his head, but said nothing further. Alyve took in a steadying breath. “We shall pick up on this tomorrow. Or later this evening, if you have the time.” She nodded at Josephine. “And I apologize for putting you in such a situation, my Lady. You can speak for yourself, I know that very well.”

“Everything is fine, Inquisitor,” said Josephine, mustering a small, thankful smile. “I appreciate it.”

“We are adjourned until further notice, then,” said Alyve.

When nobody protested, she made her leave. Leliana shook herself from her stupor and regarded the others. “Well, that was… something.”

Josephine jumped in quickly, “Commander, I do want to give you my sincerest—”

“No, it’s… it is I who should be sorry,” said Cullen, voice raspy. He rubbed the back of his neck. “The Inquisitor is right. I sometimes forget that you have years of experience that entirely out-weigh my own.”

“We have our individual strengths,” tried Josephine.

“Perhaps, but it was not fair to shoot you down without truly considering your plan as a viable option.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And you are right, as well. Plotting our next move with a sturdier foundation is far better than charging head-first into action.”

Josephine said nothing. It was true she often felt that Cullen had a tendency to discredit her ideas, but she never voiced such concerns to anyone. Not even Leliana. It had been nothing short of staggering when Alyve came to her defense, even more so how impassioned it was. But she was glad that _someone_ had pointed it out… she just wished it didn’t make things so awkward.

“I hope she apologizes for her tone,” she finally said.

“Who? The Inquisitor?” Cullen chuckled sourly. “I cannot blame her. I fear I’ve done the same to her. I shall watch how I approach things more often. Especially with you lot.” He smiled sadly at Josephine. “So, I formally apologize for my behavior today, Ambassador.”

“You’re a good man, Cullen,” said Josephine, returning the smile. “Of that I have no doubt.”

“I can be a better one.”

Fortunately for them all, Alyve had later approached Cullen with an apology for losing her temper. He accepted and offered one of his own. Alyve also all but flew of Josephine’s side to once again tell her she didn’t intend to make the meeting so awkward. Josephine didn’t think anything of it, and said that as long as they got their job done, she’d be satisfied.

With the past behind them, they resumed the meeting that night and came to a compromise. Leliana would send scouts, Josephine would put her work toward rallying more troops for Cullen, and Cullen would meet with one of Josephine’s contacts to discuss strategies for a potential assault on wherever Erimond had run off to.

In a final effort to show his regret, Cullen had spent a couple of days scraping together some important information as a side task. He later found Alyve sitting by the campfire in the main courtyard of Skyhold, practicing her fletching so she could properly customize her arrows to her needs. He wordlessly handed her a small package, only speaking when she glanced at him curiously.

“Josephine told me about your brother,” he explained. “Lysander Trevelyan, was it? Yes? Wonderful. This is for you.”

Alyve set down her arrows and took the package from him. She opened it and could not contain the gasp when her brother’s favorite locket was revealed, the polished silver catching the light of the fire. She thought this had been lost when he had died… but now…

“It took every last contact I had back with the remaining Templars to find it,” said Cullen. “I regret not knowing him. If he was anything like you, he was nothing but a brave and noble man and warrior.”

Alyve engulfed him in a powerful hug, taking him by surprise. He gingerly hugged her back, patting her shoulder as she thanked him over and over again. As soon as he bashfully excused himself, Alyve draped the locket around her neck and clutched it tight in her fist.

She hadn’t felt this close to her brother in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peace, love, and kindness, my friends.  
Thanks for the kudos and comments <3


	6. The Fallen Fortune

Fortunately, Cullen did seem to change his approach whenever he was in the War Room. It wasn’t as though it was a drastic change, but he would patiently listen and insert his opinion respectfully. He recognized he had trouble viewing Alyve as someone with power, even though he did absolutely know she had it over him. He turned that around and foddered it into cooperation, much to the pleasure of his peers.

He even tried to make conversation with Leliana at one point during a meeting…

“So you and, uh…” He had glanced at her furtively as she lifted a brow.

“Harper.”

“I knew her name. I attended her Harrowing.”

“Yes, and?”

“Was she… I mean… did she ever…?”

A snide smirk, “Are you asking for details?”

“I, uh, no! That would be, uh, inappropriate.”

Josephine and Alyve had exchanged looks before they struggled to hide their laughter.

It was a nice change, and even Alyve put her best foot forward to keep the peace. Cullen’s gift meant the world to her. It certainly made it easier to trust him. He had gone out of his way to show is regret and loyalty, and she appreciated such an act.

It also made all meetings going forward far more pleasant. They were a productive team, especially when Alyve was leading the charge. She considered everything her advisors had to say before launching a plan of attack—or not, depending on who she listened to—and everyone went to bed happy.

Not to mention, Skyhold was becoming more and more like home. Each day, it was getting a little cleaner, a little easier to live within. Josephine had ensured that it would be a lovely safe haven and a proud place for those in the Inquisition to call home. Visiting dignitaries used to comment on its rustic charm. Now they were complimenting the strength of the walls, the warmth of the hearths, and numbers of loyal followers. It made Alyve brim with pride whenever she received an update on Skyhold’s state and how it was impacting morale.

But she was always busy. While they stacked their numbers as they started to march toward a swift strike on Corypheus’ plans, Alyve was taking a lot of time away from Skyhold to ensure Thedas was putting its trust in the Inquisition and its mission statement. Time spent in Skyhold was next to nothing, but she didn’t mind the traveling. And besides, whenever she got home, she eagerly rushed to Josephine and relayed what had happened so it may go into their records. Unbeknownst to her, Josephine awaited those reports with baited breath, pen at the ready whenever she got word that Alyve got back. It also provided Josephine some peace of mind that Alyve was in one piece.

Spending time together like that, albeit for business, was something they couldn’t get enough of. They’d have tea, catch up, and Josephine would beg Alyve to be careful if she shared a story of a fight with a dragon or closing one too many rifts, rendering her so exhausted that she’d wind up on Bull’s back as he carried her to a nearby camp. Alyve would promise her she’d watch herself next time, but Josephine warned her not to make promises she couldn’t keep.

One afternoon, Alyve was strolling back into the castle after practice when she caught sight of Leliana standing along the walls. Her back was to her, seemingly gazing out in the distance. Curious, Alyve made her way up the stone steps to join her spymaster. It was rare to see her away from her private study in the rookery, after all.

“Inquisitor,” Leliana greeted without turning around.

“How’d you… never mind.” Alyve stopped beside her. She could barely see the profile of her face, the cowl covering most of it. “What brings you out here?”

“I’m thinking.”

“Can’t I pry a bit?”

“It is my job to keep secrets, is it not?”

“I just… I just had a question.”

Leliana sighed. “If you must.”

“It’s about the Grey Warden that Cullen mentioned.” That piqued Leliana’s interest, and even Alyve managed to spot that. “Harper, was it?” A nod in response. “You have a history with her?”

Leliana sighed softly. “I do.”

“I didn’t know you had relations with her.”

“I still do. She is always in my thoughts, even when we’re far apart.”

“Where is she now?”

“My love is on a quest of her own. When the Inquisition has no further need of me, I will join her. For good, this time.” There was a flicker of a smile. “She and I used to travel together, you know? Just the two of us… and her dog…” She eyed Alyve suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m just curious, is all. Sometimes it’s best to talk these things out.”

Leliana straightened, but kept her eyes trained forward. “You do that far too often with Josephine.”

Alyve smiled wryly. “Perhaps. She’s a good shoulder to lean on.”

“That is all?”

“What?”

“Nothing… and perhaps you’re right. After all, it’s no secret Harper and I were engaged in a love affair. I was with her near the start, and I was with her when she defeated the Archdemon. With her by my side, anything was possible.” She frowned deeply. “But there is no happily ever after, not when life goes on.”

“What did she look like?”

“She was a dream… dark, curly hair she often pulled back. Blue eyes that sparkled with her magic—a dreamer at heart. But she could be ruthless and refused to let people get pushed around. You’re a bit like her, in a way. But she yearned for a role bigger than herself, whereas you always maintain a humble state of mind. You’d like her, though.”

“I hope to meet her one day.”

“I hope so, too.” Leliana finally regarded Alyve fully. “She would admire your honesty, as I do. Perhaps it’s a foolish notion—being so open-hearted. But I suppose that’s why Josephine likes your company so much.”

“I refuse to believe you’re cold-hearted, Leliana.”

“Then I must do a better job.” Alyve laughed at that. “By the way, I must comment on your defense of Josephine the other day.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. It was admirable—heated, yes, but admirable. Cullen is a good man with a heart for all things he cares about. He forgets himself sometimes.”

“I probably shouldn’t have yelled.”

“Maybe not, but he realized his mistake. And I often forget that Josephine is just as present in our conversations as the three of us. It is a mistake I try to rectify often. Josephine is a highly intelligent soul. We are very fortunate to have her.”

“Yes, we are.” Alyve bowed slightly. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts, Spymaster. Good afternoon.”

“To you, as well.”

* * *

Josephine has always been one who can keep her head in a stressful situation. Said situations mostly involved politicians and legislature—things she could handle with ease. But as of late, she ran into some trouble that made her stomach churn painfully.

After the discussion she had with Alyve regarding her family a few weeks ago, Josephine took it upon herself to attempt to restore her family’s name. Alyve’s words had a deeper effect on her than she realized until it kept her up at night, pacing before her bed, mind racing so fast it was almost dizzying. She was determined to make the name “Montilyet” one of high regard once again, so she delved down the path of paperwork. Usually a path she tread with great simplicity… but the roadblock she encountered was downright haunting.

She didn’t want to ask Alyve for her help, especially since Alyve had just barely returned from a search and rescue mission for their own people, but she was grasping at straws. It was her last chance at ensuring the mere _potential_ of returning honor to the Montilyets. She just didn’t expect it to turn so dark.

To her great relief, Alyve stopped by the day after her return as usual to catch up on what she had missed while she was in the Fallow Mire. Josephine wasted no time, shooting from her seat and walking briskly toward Alyve. The Inquisitor sensed the urgency, the fear dancing in Josephine’s eyes cluing her in immediately.

“Inquisitor. I must speak with you,” she said, brows pinching together. “But not as an ambassador. As a Montilyet to a Trevelyan… my family needs yours once again.”

“What is it?” Alyve said, searching her face concernedly.

“I… must explain something first about the Montilyets’ fortunes,” said Josephine awkwardly.

“I remember you said your family had been forbidden from trading in Orlais,” recalled Alyve, hoping to spare her from explaining details over again. “Don’t you? We just had that conversation not too long ago.”

“Yes, of course. It devastated our finances. The Montilyets have, in fact, been in debt for over a hundred years.” Josephine’s cheeks flared with shame as she admitted such, even though Alyve was acutely aware of her family’s debacle.

“Debt or no, you appear to be surviving,” said Alyve.

“That isn’t enough!” Josephine’s fists clenched at her sides. She wasn’t mad at Alyve, of course, for she had a point. She simply did not understand the gravity of the situation. Not yet. “A disaster could wipe us out completely.” She began to pace in front of the fire, fretting evermore. “For generations, we’ve done everything to keep creditors at bay. Sold our _lands_ to stave off interest. It’s just…” She sighed in defeat. “It is _infuriating_ to see my family still reduced to this!

“I’m to become head of our house. If I sell any more of our land, my family will become destitute! That _cannot_ be my legacy to them.” If there was one thing Josephine was grateful for, it was Alyve’s ability to listen intently and without judgement. Even now, she waited and watched as Josephine vented. “I worry for my family. My foolish sister Yvette with her daydreams, my brothers trying to rebuild our fleet with their own hands…” She felt her chest clench as she all but squeaked, “Is it wrong to hope they never know hardship?”

“It isn’t wrong at all,” affirmed Alyve. “You want what’s best for them. You love your family.”

“Yes… yes, I love them dearly. They drive me mad most of the time, but I do what I can to ensure their security.”

“Is there anything I can do? Trevelyan to Montilyet?”

Josephine’s heart warmed at such an offer. “Well… I’d almost solved our problems. For a while.”

“And?”

“I negotiated a chance to reinstate the Montilyets as landed traders in Orlais. We could rebuild with that easily. I have all the tools at my disposal to make it run smoothly, and it would give my siblings something else to focus on once I task them with maintaining certain aspects—I digress. When I dispatched paperwork to Val Royeaux…” Her breath caught in her throat as she was reminded of the news she received that morning over breakfast. She had immediately lost her appetite and began to worry about her next steps. “I’ve just learned the documents restoring my family’s trading status were destroyed. My carriers were murdered—” She clutched at her chest, trying and failing to steady herself.

Being a part of the Inquisition meant death and destruction a lot of the time. It was something they were all becoming numb to, as dark as that sounded. But it was true. It was a part of their lives now, and sometimes such was necessary. But when innocent people—messengers—were slaughtered performing a menial task, a _personal_ task… it made her feel faint. She felt ultimately responsible.

She tired to press on, “They were… Maker, forgive me.”

Alyve stood to attention, aghast. “_What_?” Josephine nodded solemnly. “Do you have any idea who murdered them?”

“Leliana made inquiries that bore success.” At the end of the day, if she could rely on anyone, it was Leliana, if not Alyve. As soon as Josephine got word, she asked for Leliana’s assistance. The spymaster jumped at the chance, a fire in her eyes. How fast she got the information was downright frightening. “Comte Boisvert, a nobleman in Val Royeaux, claims to know who killed my messengers. He has a request: that you come when I meet him, so he’s seen ‘publicly conferring’ with you.”

“Innocent people are killed, and all he cares about is being seen with me?”

“That’s Val Royeaux for you…”

Pursing her lips, “What will being seen with me gain the comte?”

“The comte will drop hints at parties he’s to meet with an important visitor. Allies and rivals will take note. Once he’s met you, there will be speculation. The comte will subtly spin reports to his advantage.”

“I’ll say it again: I _hate_ politics.”

“In this instance, as do I. He _will_ use us, but if he knows who killed my people, I ask that we indulge him. I cannot let their deaths be in vain.” She dipped her head. “I hate to ask this of you, truly, but your family has always helped my own. And since we are friends, it would mean the world to me if a Trevelyan would accompany a Montilyet in the name of our family’s long-standing alliance.”

“If that’s what it takes to get to the bottom of this, I’ll meet this comte with you,” said Alyve seriously.

“You… you will?”

“Of course I will.”

“Oh, thank you, Alyve!” Josephine refrained from leaping into Alyve’s arms for an embrace. Instead, she gripped Alyve’s marked hand with both of hers. “It means the world—goodness, you are too kind. I _must_ know who killed my couriers just to harm my family.”

“We’ll find out. Together.” Alyve smiled strongly. “We can leave this evening and jump ahead of our enemies before anything else happens.”

“If you’re sure. You’ve only just returned.”

“The last thing we need is for anyone else to get hurt—especially you. We don’t know what these people are capable of. I’ll grab Cassandra, Bull, and Dorian. They’d be more than happy to put an end to all this.” Her other hand came to join the rest, gripping Josephine’s tightly. “You can count on us.”

* * *

It was as though she was plunged into an icy bath as she stepped foot in Val Royeaux. Although Alyve and her companions were surrounding her, hands itching toward their weaponry, eyes sharp to those around them, Josephine had never felt more frightened out in public. She did not know what to expect despite the fact that she had sat herself in meetings like this time and time again. There was a great feeling of dread and foreboding with each careful step toward the meeting place.

She kept her eyes trained to Alyve’s back as she led the charge deeper into Val Royeaux. It had taken a long while to get here, and Josephine had been grateful for the company.

She wasn’t apt for traveling nowadays, especially with her cozy spot at Skyhold, but camping in the wilds with the four accompanying her was rather cozy at times. Bull would tell the craziest tall tales of his exploits around the fire, Cassandra the only one who was skeptical of any of them. The nights under the stars took Josephine’s breath away… she only wished that she was seeing them under different circumstances. The journey had reminded her of her old dreams of exploring. Said dreams kept her mind off the meeting during the trip. The spires and masks of the city had brought reality back like a landslide.

Certainly no stranger to the suspicious, judgmental glances from the citizens of Val Royeaux, Josephine should have felt right back at home. In her element. She had dabbled in these streets in her youth, learning the tricks and trades of Orlesian nobility in its rawest form. But the further they walked, the more she felt as though her blood was turning to ice. She had a bad feeling about all this, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

She regarded Alyve again, her Anchor sparking every now and again with her drive to protect and serve. She had jumped at the chance to assist Josephine, and sometimes she wondered how in the Maker’s name she deserved such unrelenting loyalty from the Inquisitor. Sure, their families were allies. But that was all business. Alyve took it a few steps beyond that, and she unknowingly captured several parts of Josephine’s heart thanks to her selflessness and kindness.

Josephine felt safe with her nearby, that was for sure.

“I’ll have Cassandra stand by,” Alyve was saying to her companions, Josephine finally tuning into the noise surrounding her. “Dorian and Bull will be just outside the door, ready for my word. Understood?”

“Awh, you won’t let us in on the fun?” said Iron Bull, smirking.

“We’re only here as a precaution in case Lady Montilyet is in danger,” Alyve said seriously. “And, with all due respect, Bull, your ability to take up space might make the comte uneasy.”

Bull laughed heartily. “Perhaps you’re right, but I’m always willing to do a bit of persuasion should the need arise.” He cracked his knuckles loudly, making Josephine wince at the volume. “I’ll do as you say, Boss. You got my back, Dorian?”

“Hm? Oh, indeed.” Dorian heaved a bored sigh and gazed around the city. “Sorry. This political stuff is far too dull.”

“This is a matter of safety for our ambassador,” said Cassandra seriously. “This isn’t as political as we might hope.”

“The comte certainly makes it so.”

“Please, let’s just get this over with,” said Alyve. She glanced over her shoulder at Josephine. “You feeling okay?”

“Just fine, Inquisitor,” she said, but her voice quavered. “I’ll manage.”

They made it to the meeting spot at last—a wealthy flat within one of the dizzying labyrinthian buildings. The door was left unlocked for them, the boys taking their posts outside. The three women pressed inside, greeted by a young steward who directed them to their contact. Cassandra stood in a corner, dressed in the shadows and looking as menacing as ever. Josephine led Alyve deeper in the ornate room, finding the masked comte sitting leisurely on a balcony, a cup of wine being set in front of him by the steward, who quickly took his leave.

He raised a hand lazily at the two steadily approaching women. “Welcome, my friends.”

Josephine nodded her head politely, Alyve sizing up the comte over Josephine’s shoulder. She hated the damn masks everyone on this side of Thedas loved to sport. It prevented her from looking them in the eyes, from gaining an advantage through picking up tells and shifts of expression. She bit back a heavy scowl, mistrust writhing in her gut. If she wasn’t ready to nock an arrow before, she certainly was now.

“Thank you for seeing us, Comte Boisvert,” Josephine said evenly, putting on her own metaphorical mask of professionalism. It was time to get what she came for.

“The honor is mine. Please, sit.” He took a generous sip of his wine as Josephine and Alyve sat across from him. “It’s an honor to assist two such distinguished guests.”

“We appreciate your help, Comte,” said Alyve, picking her words carefully. While she did not dare give him a shred of her trust, she had to remind herself that she was here for Josephine. Bloodshed should be the last thing on her mind.

The smile that unfurled across his face, seen for a split second before vanishing behind the mask, made her want to throttle him. “The death of Lady Montilyet’s servants must weigh heavily on you.”

“Indeed. Innocent lives were lost.”

“A shame.” He regarded his wine, sipped it again, and then leaned back in his seat, speaking as though they were discussing the weather. “Have you heard of the House Repose?”

“The… assassins’ league?” said Josephine slowly, and Alyve sat up straight.

“Correct, my Lady. My contacts obtained a copy of a document in their archives. A contract for a life.” He slid a scroll that was sitting atop the table toward Josephine. Alyve could feel his eyes stuck on her, however. It was as though he was also trying to make something of her, watching her every move.

Josephine opened the scroll with a furrowed brow, reading the contract aloud, “‘The House of Repose is hereby sworn to eliminate anyone attempting to overturn the Montilyet’s trading exile in Orlais.’” Her brow melted and curved into realization. Alyve finally tore her gaze from the comte to meet Josephine’s.

“By the Maker. That’s why they were killed,” Alyve breathed.

“Unnecessary slaughter, yes, but it makes sense. What have I done?” Josephine shook her head. “A contract on a life… _any_ life that tries to restore my family’s name, even by proxy.”

“Then that means they’re not just after your messengers, Josephine,” she said, horrified comprehension dawning on her. “They’ll try for you, too.”

“I… I am afraid so, yes,” confirmed Josephine, voice strangely monotone and unfeeling.

“Josie?” Alyve prodded quietly, ducking her head at an attempt to catch Josephine’s far-off gaze. Her heart was pounding in her ears at the very idea someone would try to come after the one person she cherished so dearly, whether Josephine knew or not. These were dangerous waters they were treading in, and it was difficult to tell if the comte was a helpful hand trying to pull them out with a warning or a shark waiting to strike.

Josephine blinked a couple of times, snapping herself out of it. She ignored Alyve entirely, desperate for more information. She regarded the comte, and Alyve decided to follow her lead. “Who… do you know who instated this?”

“The contract was signed by a noble family. The Du Paraquettes,” he said calmly.

Fear turned into frustrated bewilderment as Josephine said, “But the Du Paraquettes died out as a noble line over sixty years ago!”

“Indeed. But the contract was signed _one hundred and nine_ years ago.”

“What?” Alyve deadpanned. “How can a family try to kill you after they died out?”

“The Du Paraquettes were our rivals,” Josephine explained. “They drove the Montilyets from Val Royeaux. This contract was drawn up over a hundred years ago, but it wasn’t invoked until I tried to overturn my family’s exile.”

“Wouldn’t there be an expiration date on something like this?” said Alyve, aghast. “I mean, really, how long can one really hold a grudge? I didn’t realize that assassin contracts had these types of terms and conditions.”

“Unpleasant though it may be,” the comte jumped in casually, “the House of Repose is merely fulfilling its contractual duties.”

“I still don’t understand. If the people who wanted your family dead are gone, why are the assassins still after you?” She was trying to ignore the comte and his whole laissez-faire approach to a very dire situation. “Wouldn’t they have forgotten this by now?”

Josephine was no help either when she said, almost scandalized, “A contract is a _contract_, Inquisitor!”

“Josephine!” Alyve yelped.

“You must understand that Orlesian businesses live and die by their reputations. The entire guild’s welfare would be endangered if an agreement was tossed aside on a whim of time or fate.”

“Who would know!?”

“_They_ would.”

The comte chuckled darkly. “She’s quite right, your Worship. The House of Repose is doing what it feels necessary. By its standards.”

“Since when do assassins have any sort of etiquette regarding social standing or standards?” Alyve said furiously. “They go about and kill people for a living. If you want to talk about standards, why don’t they just kill the people who deserve it!?”

“Assassins are people of business, not vigilantes such as yourself,” said the comte.

Alyve was about to snap back at him, but Josephine quickly set a firm hand on her leg. She took in a sharp breath and, through gritted teeth, said to Josephine as steadily as possible, “I assume you have a thought or two on this, Josephine?”

The ambassador fell silent for a moment, piecing together what knowledge she had on her family’s rival. “The Du Paraquettes still have descendants under the common branch. If we elevate them to nobility, a Du Paraquette could annul the contract on my life.”

“Okay, okay, that’s a good thing. Right?”

“It’s a start.”

“Ah… that would take time, Lady Montilyet,” said the comte, swirling his wine in his goblet. “Time during which the House of Repose will be obligated to hunt you.”

Josephine paused. He did not seem eager to assist in such a task, which was certainly odd since he had been determined to meet them and reveal all this information to them in the first place. The red flags that had been waving like mad in the back of Alyve’s head stood to attention. The two women shared a knowing look.

“Will they now?” said Josephine, face clouding over as she turned back to the comte. “You are exceedingly well-informed. Your note to us said you’d heard rumors at best.”

He cleared his throat distractedly, waving away her comment. “A bit of subterfuge. This contract on your life is an ugly business, one the House of Repose deeply regrets.” Alyve’s jaw tightened, fire in her eyes as he continued. “But this is Orlais. Even an assassin’s word is his bond.”

“So, does ‘Comte Boisvert’ actually exist?” Alyve ground out.

There was a moment of hesitance as the man before them realized he had been caught. “Absolutely. The comte’s offer to reveal the killers of Lady Montilyet’s messengers was genuine. So was his information, somehow. An end to be tied up later…”

“If that’s the case, I’m guessing the _actual_ Comte Boisvert met with a fatal accident?” Alyve leaned forward, hands firmly flattened atop the table.

“Comte Boisvert slumbers in a nearby closet! Nothing more.” He gestured back into the room. “You could find him with ease, if you so choose, but you will get the same information as I have given. Perhaps a little disoriented, but indeed the same. The contract on Lady Montilyet’s life is so unusual, we felt the courtesy of an explanation was in order.”

“Oh, right,” Alyve spat at the assassin. “This is just grand, isn’t it?”

He ignored her. “Your idea to seek out a Du Paraquette to revoke our orders is an interesting one.”

“What other choice does she have? You’re hellbent on honoring an ancient contract on the base of _pride_. What sort of rubbish is that?”

“I do not expect you to understand our ways, Inquisitor.” He regarded Josephine, briefly catching the ferocious spark of green coming from Alyve’s palm. “You embark on a rather difficult endeavor, Lady Montilyet. I cannot promise a slow and steady hunt. But I wish you luck all the same.”

The gravity of the situation dawned on Josephine, and she lowered her head in defeat. “It is appreciated, monsieur.”

As he stood, ready to take his leave, Alyve shot up from her seat like a bolt of lightning. She threw herself in his path, bearing down on him. Her marked hand was spluttering with her anger, with her determination to protect her dear friend. She could hear the tentative footsteps of Cassandra approach behind her. The Seeker was grabbing her hilt, keeping it sheathed until Alyve made the next move. The comte lazily glanced at Cassandra before looking back to the enraged Inquisitor before him.

Unimpressed, “I did not come to shed blood today, Inquisitor—only to speak.” He nodded behind her expectantly. “Might I pass?”

“Why warn us about your contract and let us go?” she demanded.

“In Orlais, it is only decent to inform those involved in a contract when extraordinary circumstances conspire.”

“And the guild’s reputation would suffer if you ignore the contract,” added Josephine tiredly. “I quite understand.”

“Is that an average, everyday thing you damn Orlesians really keep track of?” Alyve said to the assassin, blood pumping with the itch to sink an arrow though that stupid mask.

“Crassness is not very becoming on someone of your status, if I may say so,” the assassin said darkly. “May we conclude with my departure? I grow weary of these formalities.”

Alyve’s eyes darted over to Josephine, silently begging her to let her land a good shot into his heart. But, to her great displeasure, the ambassador shook her head distantly.

“Go, then,” Alyve growled, finally stepping out of his way. Lucky man. He wouldn’t have stood a chance.

She made a mental note to task Leliana with finding him later. Once she got a taste of what happened here today, she had no doubt that she would send all her best forces after him.

He bowed slightly. “Good day, your Worship.” To Josephine, “My Lady. I pray we never meet again.”

_I’ll be seeing you in your nightmares_, Alyve thought violently, watching him leave. She caught the look of horror on Cassandra’s face, but she waved her down. She returned to sit beside Josephine, who was staring down at her hands as she contemplated all that had occurred.

“I’m going to post guards outside your room,” Alyve said immediately.

Softly, “Inquisitor, please—”

“_I’ll_ stand guard if I have to.”

“Truthfully, that won’t be—”

“I want to kill him!” Alyve roared, jumping back on her feet, starting toward the door, but Josephine caught her sleeve, yanking her back. “Josephine—!”

“_Alyve_… please…” Her voice shook, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “Don’t.” She gingerly pulled Alyve closer, lip trembling. “If you must, do it when I am not looking, but please don’t… don’t leave me now.”

Alyve’s shoulders slumped as she watched the terror strike and destroy Josephine’s usually stoic mask made specifically for tense meetings and situations. No matter how much she understood, no matter how it made sense to her, she was downright terrified of the contract on her life. As anyone would be.

All thoughts of the assassin flew out the window and Alyve started forward, trapping Josephine in her arms, holding her close as she was wracked with tears, clinging to Alyve like a lifeline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the personal quest begins...


	7. The Promise

As Alyve expected, Leliana was outraged.

The minute they returned from Val Royeaux—Josephine deathly quiet and jumpy the entire trip back—Alyve went to the spymaster and explained the situation. Leliana had started to tell Alyve off for not killing the man right then and there, but halted such a furious lecture when the Inquisitor said it was per Josephine’s request, and that she also thought it was foolish to let him go. There was a moment of silence between them before they launched into plans on how to keep their dear ambassador safe from any attempt on her life.

Despite everything, Josephine went back to work, using her free time to charge through her plan of revoking the contract. It was a long and cumbersome task, but it was all she had.

Memories of the journey back to Skyhold danced in her mind’s eye every time she started to work on her plan. Alyve had firmly remained by her side the whole way, refusing to sleep the night they spent at a run-down inn, stationing herself on a chair outside Josephine’s room. She was far enough away to give her space, but close enough to keep an eye on her. And Alyve wasn't the only one who was trying to keep her safe on the way back home. Dorian, Cassandra, and Iron Bull surrounded Josephine, weapons drawn, and eyes trained to the environment around them. It was only when they got back did Alyve feel as though she could confidently leave Josephine alone… but the ambassador did wake the next morning to find two Inquisition soldiers standing guard outside her door.

She hated to admit that it gave her some peace of mind, but she had to let Alyve know that wasting valuable Inquisition men and women for her personal protection was not necessary—although Alyve refused to listen to her about that.

So, when Alyve came to check in on her a couple of days later, Josephine launched into an apology. After all, she had gotten herself into this mess.

“I’m so sorry, Inquisitor,” she said as Alyve approached her desk.

Baffled, "For what?"

“I never thought my family’s trading status would trap us in an assassin’s plot.”

"But why are you apologizing? This isn't your fault. How were you to know that the Du Paraquettes set up a stupid contract?"

"I suppose I could have been more careful."

"There's nothing that could have prepared you for something like _this_. But you're not gonna be in any danger here. Between our soldiers and spies, Skyhold’s safer than anywhere else in Thedas,” said Alyve confidently.

“Perhaps, and that is another reason why I think we shouldn’t put people outside my room.”

“Well, you can’t be _too_ careless, you know?”

Seeing that Alyve wasn’t going to let up on that, so she moved on. “Yet the problem persists.” She grabbed a stack of papers, flipping through her notes and letters that would help in her trying task. “I’ve tracked the last Du Paraquettes. If they become gentry, they can annul the contract on my life. We’ll require a noble from Val Royeaux to sponsor them, a judge to provide documents, a minister to ratify them—”

“It’s so like you to take the longest course of action, even when your life is at stake,” said Leliana humorously, appearing from behind Alyve—and giving the Inquisitor a minor heart attack.

“I assume you already know everything about this mess,” said Josephine, eyeing Alyve suspiciously. Alyve avoided her gaze, guiltily tucking her hands behind her back.

“There is a faster way, Josephine: the original contract on your life is in the vaults of the House of Repose,” said Leliana urgently. “If my agents infiltrate it and destroy the original, the assassin will have no obligation to chase you.”

Josephine raised a hand. “Leliana, please. I want no more blood shed over a personal affair.”

Leliana scoffed. “Don’t be so stubborn, Josie! How long will it take you to gather these favors in Val Royeaux?”

Both of them had valid points. On the one hand, Josephine had every right to handle this situation her way. A nonviolent option was not a weak one, and Alyve respected Josephine’s choice to rid herself of the contract with poise. On the other hand, Leliana’s plan was quick and easy, and it would yank Josephine out of danger’s path almost at once. But something about stealing from a prideful assassin’s guild seemed like it would only cause more problems to arise.

The part of her that wanted to protect Josephine said to go with Leliana, but she knew that Josephine would only come to regret such actions. So…

“We can solve this without more deaths on either side,” said Alyve, greatly surprising both women.

“I… I appreciate that, Inquisitor,” said Josephine.

“My people are ready, should you change your mind,” Leliana said to Josephine, frowning at Alyve all the while. “I thought _you_ of all people, your Worship, would support a quick and easy way.”

Alyve shrugged. “Look, I don’t want to push Josephine out of her comfort zone. If she believes this is the right way to go, then I support her.”

“Very well. I’ll post a watch on our ambassador, in case the House of Repose visits.”

“Oh, not this again,” groaned Josephine.

“That I can agree on,” said Alyve, nodding firmly.

“_In any case_,” Josephine plowed forward, “I appreciate it. I still believe elevating the Du Paraquettes will solve this.” All Leliana did was smirk in disbelief, folding her arms across her chest and sauntering away, leaving Josephine alone with Alyve once again. Josephine shot Alyve a reproachful look and said, “I can’t believe you told her everything.”

“I just wanted our best in the loop. She would have found out without me telling her anyway. _And_ it was only a matter of time before Dorian opened his mouth and let the entire hold in on this impending danger. Leliana can do far more than I in the realm of keeping you safe, especially with all that’s going on beyond this situation.”

“I do hope you’re not shirking your duties because of me.”

“So what if I am?” When Josephine looked horrified, Alyve raised her hands chest-high. “I’m kidding…! Kind of. I can help you _and_ everyone else. You’re my friend, Josephine. I want to ensure that you’re out of harm’s way.”

“Yes, well… I cannot thank you enough. Now, I hate to ask, but are you up to the task of assisting me in reinstating the Du Paraquettes?”

Alyve pressed her fist to her heart. “From Trevelyan to Montilyet, I am.”

With a grateful smile. “Excellent. First, we’d need to perform some favors in Val Royeaux. I’d be happy to discuss where we could begin now.”

Alyve pulled up a chair and sat down, weaving her fingers together and leaning forward. “I’m all ears, Lady Montilyet.”

After a couple of hours going over all Alyve needed to do on her end, Josephine sighed, exhausted, and leaned back in her seat. She smiled softly as Alyve ran a hand through her hair distractedly. She could not deny how touched she was that Alyve was going through great lengths to assist her. She wished it didn't have to come to this, but she was glad that she wasn't alone.

“Do you have any questions before we adjourn this little meeting?” asked Josephine, lazily lifting a few pages of her notes.

“How exactly does one turn farmers into members of the upper class?” said Alyve. “I understand all the favors we must do and all, but it’s so odd that they have any sort of system like this.”

“Yes, there are indeed procedures for granting honored citizens of the empire the title of ‘lord’ or ‘lady,’” confirmed Josephine, laughing lightly at Alyve’s bemused expression. “They are very long procedures. And so much paperwork! I’ve called in a substantial number of favors just to cut through half of it.”

Ever the fierce defender, “Why did the Du Paraquettes hate the Montilyets so much that they set up a permanent assassinate watch?”

“There’s not much more beyond what I mentioned before,” said Josephine plainly. “A Montilyet and a Du Paraquette fell in love. A young couple, pledged elsewhere, attempted to elope. The whole thing ended so violently, it’s a wonder any survived.”

“By the Maker."

“It’s fortunate the Du Paraquettes’ descendants hold no grudges.”

“What if the Du Paraquettes refuse to aid you?”

Josephine caught the worry etched all over Alyve’s face. It was almost endearing. “I’ve already contacted the Du Paraquettes, Inquisitor. They’re ready to help us.” She smiled knowingly. “Does that ease some of your concern?”

Alyve loosened up significantly. “Yes. Thank you.”

“I won’t lie, it will be a long road, but a lordship is a chance to restore a proud lineage to their heirs.” Her smile turned almost wicked, a mirror of Leliana’s influence shining brightly. “Besides, I’ve promised them a heavy bag of coin once this is over.”

“And you’re _sure_ the House of Repose will forget this assassin contract on a farmer’s signature?”

Casually, “Oh, it’s perfectly legal. In Val Royeaux’s noble circles, a written word is a bond. Besides, the guild would never risk being so unspeakably crass.”

“They’re the most polite assassins I’ve ever heard of,” said Alyve, smirking. “Are they sure they’re cut out for such dirty work?”

“Breaking one’s public oath or bond implies a certain… poverty in Orlais. A common merchant may lack the resources to fulfill a debt, but among the guilds? It would be _shameful_.”

“Right. Makes total sense,” Alyve droned. She stood and stretched deeply. “I best be off to see to the rest of Skyhold and prepare for the job ahead.”

“Good. Remember, Countess Dionne is our first step.”

“Yes: her mage lover is missing from the White Spire.” Alyve winked at her. “Believe it or not, my Lady, I do listen to your every word very intently.”

No matter what the circumstance, Alyve still found every opportunity to make her blush. “Just… just be sure to report back when you’ve completed this first favor.”

“Will do.” Alyve rapped her knuckles on the desk.

* * *

At first, efforts in getting support for the Du Paraquettes went off without a hitch. Alyve convinced the countess to sponsor them, and Josephine was allowed to put her resources toward the gaining a judge’s favor. Alyve had just received word that the judge was willing to help that morning, so she went to Josephine’s study immediately… only to find two bodies being carried out by Inquisitor soldiers, overseen by a furious Leliana.

Alyve’s heart plummeted into her stomach.

"No..." she croaked, blood running cold. She looked desperately at Leliana, who was void of any direct emotion. She was angry, that much was definitely clear. But was it a mask to hide mourning?

Every possible scenario flashed across her mind's eye. She was dead, she was missing, she was _both_. By the Maker, was Leliana too late and took her rage out on these heartless assassins?

She was struggling to breathe, slowly approaching the spymaster. Her heart had risen from the depths of her stomach and lodged itself in her throat. She couldn't find the words, choking on air. It was when she finally paused in front of Leliana did the spymaster look up from watching the bodies being removed from the room. Those in the hall were watching the scene, a loud silence draped over the room.

"Go inside," was all that Leliana said before turning to the crowd to dissuade them from watching.

Alyve rushed in without a second thought, unsure of what she was about to find. To her great relief, Josephine was still standing among the remnants of a fight, visibly shaken. Another soldier stood by her side, speaking lowly to her, trying to calm her down. Her tense shoulders melted at the sight of her, thanking the Maker that she was okay.

“Josephine…” Alyve whispered, and the ambassador snapped her head over to her. She remained paralyzed as Alyve took two long strides up to her, clasping her arms around her. Josephine reacted slowly, timidly wrapping her arms around Alyve’s waist, trembling in her grasp. "Maker's breath... you're alive."

Josephine had never felt safer in someone’s embrace, and it pained her when Alyve tenderly pulled her back to examine every inch of her. She wanted to bury herself in Alyve’s shoulder forever, shielded from the ugliness and cruelty of the world. Those expressive green eyes searched her face, swimming with tears that surprised the ambassador.

“What happened here?” Alyve asked tightly, trying not to jump into the land of panic again.

“The House of Repose decided to pay a visit,” said Josephine, a tremor in her voice. “The guards arrived in time, but I should’ve guessed the assassins would infiltrate the servants.”

Alyve swore under her breath. She and Leliana should have been more diligent, should have ignored Josephine’s request to keeping security on the down-low. Horrendous nightmares of Josephine in the grasp of these prideful assassins plagued her mind’s eye. It was bad enough she barely made it out alive…

“Are you sure they didn’t hurt you?” How she was keeping her voice steady, she had no idea. There was a fire in her belly, a damn dragon ready to rise up and charge after the entire House of Repose. Her Anchor was pulsating like mad, but she was doing all she could to contain it. She should have killed the assassin when she had the chance, even if would only send a message to the others about who they were dealing with.

Josephine shook her head. “They only frightened me. It was all so sudden.” She glanced at the solider observing the scene. “Leliana assigned people to shadow me. They appear to have saved my life… I owe you _everything_, Sergeant.”

The sergeant smiled kindly. “Only my duty, Ambassador.” She bowed. “I’ll talk with the spymaster about these murderous louts. She’ll find how they got in.” And with that, she took her leave.

Alyve sighed in relief. Thank the Maker Leliana _didn’t_ listen to Josephine after all. Josephine was staring off into space where the sergeant had been, face unreadable. A blankness that was not associated with political scheming or professionalism. It was one built from fear, from the rush of the potential loss of one’s life. Alyve knew such a rush all too well.

Without thinking, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against Josephine’s, earning her attention once more. A spark of life flashed across her face, her pulse racing as the Inquisitor came nose-to-nose with her. Those strong hands of hers gently but firmly gripped the ambassador’s biceps.

“I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you,” Alyve admitted quietly.

“The Inquisition would have moved on,” Josephine said airily, way too distracted by their closeness and her fading adrenaline rush.

“No, I’m not talking about them. Sure, your loss would have been felt greatly throughout, but… you are one of my dearest friends. Perhaps my _best_. Without you… by the Maker, it would have felt like a piece of my heart was missing.” A single tear slipped down her cheek. “When I saw the bodies… I… I thought…” She took in a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to protect you, too.”

Josephine pulled Alyve back into their hug, hiding her face in Alyve’s shoulder. This was absolutely unprofessional, crossing over the line between their careful relationship… but let that line be damned. In Alyve’s arms, she was safe.

Leliana stepped in, about to announce to Josephine that she didn’t care about her request to let up on her guards, but froze mid-step. She couldn’t bring herself to separate them. She backed out of the room and posted herself by the door instead.

* * *

With that looming threat of another potential assassination attempt, Alyve decided to push through with Josephine’s task as fast as she could. With two of their people locked in, what was next was to speak with Minister Bellise at some nonsense party in order to convince her to aid them. It took some serious effort to get her to agree, but Alyve returned victorious.

When all was said and done, Josephine had Alyve accompany her back to Val Royeaux to put all the pieces together. They were to remain there until Josephine was sure her life was no longer in danger. They stayed in a lavish room above the pub, Alyve once again refusing to rest until Josephine was safe. Fortunately, they brought Cassandra with them, and the Seeker offered to swap shifts with Alyve outside Josephine’s door—the only entrance and exit.

One morning, and what would eventually be their final morning there, Cassandra told Alyve that Josephine had stolen away to the docks after breakfast. Alyve quickly made her way over, relieved to see her standing… or, rather, _leaning_ against the stone railing that over-looked the docks of Val Royeaux.

She came to stand at Josephine’s side, and the ambassador acknowledged her with a very tired smile. She had been through the wringer, but her baggy eyes were dancing with victory.

“I received a letter from the House of Repose this morning,” she said.

Eagerly, "And?"

“They acknowledge that their contract is null and void. There’s no longer a price on my life.” She exhaled heavily, as though she was releasing all the tension of the last couple of weeks all at once.

“I’m glad you don’t have to live your life looking over your shoulder anymore.” Alyve leaned her back against the railing so they could comfortably face each other. “You’re safe now.”

“I regret we were forced to deal with them… that you were endangered by my part in the Game,” said Josephine.

Alyve shook her head. “I would have done all I could to make sure you were safe.” Knowing Josephine would only feel worse about it, Alyve made sure to kick in, “And that goes for any of you. Leliana included.”

Josephine chuckled softly. “It’d be quite the challenge to stave off _her_ enemies. I’m sure the list is endless.”

Alyve smirked. “Well, I better get to work, haven’t I?” She was pleased with the bout of laughter that followed. For Josephine, it felt so good to laugh again.

But it died down soon after, the ambassador looking longingly among the ships and proud statues of Andraste clouding the horizon. The call of the gulls were familiar overhead. She inhaled the smell of the sea, the ocean breeze. It reminded her of home. It was such a pleasant moment of peace and she was thrilled that she could feel this way again.

As she continued to gaze into the distance, she said, “In all the commotion… Forgive me. I don’t believe I ever truly _thanked_ you for helping me with this.”

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” said Alyve, a lovely smile stretching her features. “Such a gracious woman deserves nothing less.”

Like always, Josephine could not prevent the bashful little grin some spreading. She nervously fiddled with her hands, unable to look Alyve in the eyes. “I… such talk. I’m quite overcome.”

Respectfully, “Should I stop?”

“Oh, no… I mean yes!” Josephine’s eyes widened and she shook her head rapidly. “I meant no, I don’t…” She chuckled anxiously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, if you meant to draw a blush to my cheeks, you’ve _completely_ succeeded.” _Again_, she wanted to add, but she held her tongue.

“Shall we return to Skyhold?” Alyve said pleasantly, standing straight and offering her arm to Josephine. She stared at it for a moment, and Alyve wondered if it was too much. To her surprise, however, Josephine took it, cozying up to the Inquisitor as they began to walk.

“Yes, let us go home,” Josephine finally said, voice honeyed.

* * *

On the journey back, they made camp in a clearing by a brook. A few Inquisition scouts met up with them, so the camp was a bit more lively than their journey had been on the way in. It was a pleasant change, hearing quiet laughter and conversation among the crackling fire. Cassandra was strolling the perimeter before she turned in, hand on her hilt as she made her rounds. Alyve was resting on her bedroll, staring up at the stars. Josephine was enjoying the comforts of a tent, sitting at the open flaps as she quietly observed the scene. Her attention kept returning to the Inquisitor, however. She seemed so content resting out in the open.

Deciding that she wanted company, Josephine made her way over to Alyve. She paused, standing over her. Alyve shifted her gaze from the stars in the sky to the stars in Josephine’s eyes. She offered her a grin.

“Good evening, Lady Montilyet.”

“Good evening, Lady Trevelyan. Mind if I join you?”

“I would be honored.” Alyve scooted over so Josephine could rest comfortably beside her. They admired the sky together. “Are you ready to be back at Skyhold by this time tomorrow?”

“Oh, yes. I can return to my duties without jumping at shadows.”

Alyve frowned. “I’m sorry that it even came to that.”

“Yes, well… what’s done is done. I do not want to dwell on it for very long.” They fell silent, the only noises coming from those enjoying the warm evening around them. “Did I ever mention I used to be a Bard?”

Alyve’s brows shot into her hair. “You were a singer?”

“Bards entertain the Orlesian courts. They sing, play music, make charming conversation, and spy. Many young nobles put on a mask and practice playing the Game in such a fashion.”

Yet another thing Alyve would never understand about Orlesian way of life. “What made you interested in becoming a Bard?” she asked.

“I was attending a university in Val Royeaux when I learned about Bards.” A nostalgic, almost dreamy smile overcame her, memories taking shape in the constellations. “There was such an air of romance about them! Stories of secrets, trysts, and fascinating people. A group of us, young gentry from Antiva, decided this exciting life was for us.”

“Forgive me, but you seem a bit… steady for such an outgoing lifestyle.” It was indeed very difficult for Alyve to imagine Josephine with a lute in her hand, surrounding by adoring fans as they were enchanted by her silky voice. Although, Alyve knew for a fact that she’d definitely be one of Josephine’s admirers. “I don’t imagine many first born heirs join those ranks.”

Josephine laughed wryly. “The life of an entertainer didn’t suit me at all… I was a rather foolish exception.”

“Is that where that little exuberant moment came from? From your time as a Bard?”

“Indeed it was. I hadn’t done such an… expression in so long.”

“Well, you’re certainly not bad at it, I can promise you that much.”

“I suppose I aim to please.”

“All that’s left is hearing you sing.”

“Oh, Alyve, no, I’m honestly not that good at it.”

“You can’t lie to me, Josie. I have a hunch that your singing voice is exquisite.”

With a sigh, “If you earn the privilege, perhaps I’ll sing for you.”

“If I _earn_ the privilege!?” Alyve set a hand over her heart. “Lady Montilyet, you wound me!”

She started to laugh again. “You’re too much.”

“Do you want me to be too little?”

“Oh, not at all. You wouldn’t be you.”

A smile warmed Alyve’s cheeks. “Very true… So, what stopped you from continuing on as a Bard?”

Josephine’s smile melted away, a cold distance haunting her memory. “Well, it’s something I don’t like to dwell on. During one particular intrigue, I encountered a Bard sent to kill my patron. We fought. Or perhaps ‘scrapped’ is the better word. Both of us terrified. We were at the top of a steep flight of stairs. The other Bard drew a knife, and I pushed him away from me…” She swallowed hard. “You can imagine the result.”

“You were only defending yourself.”

Josephine became frustrated, but not at Alyve. She was right, it was self-defense, but it still plagued her dreams and woke her in the dead of night, drenched in sweat. “But it was such a _waste_, Alyve!” she stressed, her voice rising. “When I took off his mask, I _knew_ him. We’d attended parties together. If I’d stopped to reason, if I’d used my voice instead of scuffling like a common thug…” She forced herself to stop, taking in a calming breath. Once she trusted herself to speak levelly, she continued, “I’ll always wonder who that young man would have grown into.”

“I don’t know, Josephine. He seemed willing enough to murder you for the Game,” reasoned Alyve.

“Perhaps…” Josephine frowned deeply. “I feel I’m the last to judge whether or not he would have actually used the blade… I’m sorry—I didn’t mean for this conversation to go this way.”

“I’m still more offended by the fact that I haven’t heard you sing.”

Josephine let out a laugh of disbelief. “That’s what you took out of all that?” Leave it to Alyve to turn a heavy conversation on its head.

“Yes, it is. What gives, Josephine?”

“Alright, alright. Maybe I will if I’ve had a few pints. I tend not to sing as much as used to.”

“I hope I’ll get to hear it when you’re actually sober.”

“Do not hold your breath.”

Alyve snorted. “Duly noted.”

They continued to stargaze, Josephine becoming more and more aware of how close they were as they rested side-by-side. She hadn’t paid it any mind when she joined Alyve, absolutely perplexed that she allowed herself to practically cuddle up to her. Beneath the damned stars, no less. The more she thought about it, the faster her heart was racing. She wanted to stand up and retreat, but she was oh-so comfortable at Alyve’s side.

So they relaxed a while longer, Alyve humming mindlessly. Josephine turned her head to observe the right side of Alyve’s face, finding her eyes closed, but her muscles pulling her lips into a lazy smile. The light that the fire cast accentuated the scars across her eye and on her chin… scars that had always been a mystery to Josephine.

“May I ask how… how you got those?” Josephine whispered.

Without opening her eyes, “My scars?”

“If it’s too personal, you don’t have to—”

“Oh, it’s not personal in the slightest,” Alyve said pleasantly.

“No?”

“These were born out of foolishness.” Her lazy smile unfurled into a grin. “I ran away from home.”

“You _what_?”

“Did I seriously not tell you?” She opened her eyes finally and turned her head so she was nose-to-nose with Josephine. “I was thirteen. Lysander had just gone off to join the Templars, and I was angry little thing. I thought it would be a brilliant idea to try to go after him and convince him to come home. I hadn’t the slightest idea where he was going to be since his battalion had left Ostwick by then, so I sort of went blindly into the wilds. I was out there on my own for about… what, three days?”

“Three days?” Josephine gaped.

“I had packed for it, you know? I’m not totally daft. I was angry, but not stupid.”

Josephine clapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing. Alyve merely grinned wider.

“Anyway, I was making my way through the woods on my third day. My foot caught on a root and I tripped into some brambles. In all honesty, I got _all_ scratched up, but the right side of my face got ripped up by a thicket of them. I was bleeding profusely… so I cut my losses and made the journey back home. My mother was the first to see me stumbling up the steps of our estate. I was seen by a healer whilst being told off all the while.

“Everything healed pretty well—everything but this side. And these." She lifted her swooping bangs on the left side of her face to show a long, thin scar that just barely met the edge of her left brow. Then she lifted her head to show off the underside of her left jaw, a similar scar outlining the edge. They were so light that Josephine hadn't really noticed them when they first met. "They cut pretty deep and left their memory. My armor at the time had managed to spare my body.”

“So, you mean to tell me that you actually got those because you _tripped_.”

“That’s my epic tale. What do you think? Would Varric be able to sell that?”

Josephine shook her head in disbelief. “You. The reckless archer, the Herald of Andraste, and the Inquisitor—you got those scars from tripping into brambles.”

“Yup.”

“I had thought you got into a fight with a wolf or something.”

“Now _that_ would be such a mundane story, wouldn’t it?”

Josephine burst out laughing. “I don’t know what I expected, truly.”

“Don’t you have an embarrassing story from your youth?” Alyve asked, eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Oh, don’t play this game with me.”

“Come on! I told you about mine. It’s time to spill, Josie.”

An exaggerated sigh, but she smiled all the while. “Fine, fine. If I must.”

They spent the next two hours swapping childhood stories, giggling like mad as they recalled their youth. It wasn’t until Alyve saw Josephine’s eyes drooping did she suggest they get some rest. They didn’t move from their spots, however. They simply closed their eyes right there, still nose-to-nose. They only difference was that Alyve had weaved her fingers with Josephine’s, their locked hands set between their chests. Neither of them were interested in leaving the other’s side.

Under the stars, they snoozed peacefully, perfectly content in each other’s company.

* * *

“What we learned from Stroud and Hawke concerns me,” Leliana was saying. “If what they’re saying is true, then there is much at risk, lives at stake. Harper—ah, the Hero of Ferelden has been looking for a way to stop the Calling from taking her, as it does every Grey Warden. But if Corypheus has power over the Wardens… she could be in danger.”

“We understand, Leliana,” said Josephine quietly.

“Why isn’t she here? Now?” Cullen pressed, though more out of curiosity than a demand.

“Her quest took her far to the west. To lands that have never known the Blight.” Leliana was staring hard down at the map beneath her fingers. Then she mumbled, more to herself than to the others, “My love and I are never truly apart. When this is all over, I will join her again…” She closed her eyes tightly. The thought of losing Harper to the Calling was rattling her. “And this time, nothing will come between us.”

Josephine cast a glance at Alyve, who was sitting on the other side of the War Table. She seemed to be in her own little world, staring at the map seriously. Josephine wondered that if she and Alyve were to ever become… more… would she be just as nervous and anxious about the whereabouts of her dear Inquisitor as Leliana was over the Hero of Ferelden?

Of course she would. She was whenever Alyve went on a mission for the Inquisition. But at least Alyve sent updates regularly and they knew where she was at all times. She was luckier than Leliana in that respect. But it was more than just sending off a dear friend into battle. Josephine’s heart had clenched when she saw Alyve off to close the Breach. In fact, it skipped several beats whenever Alyve departed into the wilds of Thedas, leaving Josephine only to assume things were going well. She only ever breathed properly when Alyve returned. She was never unscathed, but she was at least in one piece.

Moves were being made regarding the Grey Wardens, and Alyve was to oversee the battle and fight alongside the Inquisition, naturally. Josephine’s gut had wrenched painfully when Cullen was explaining their next steps in leading an assault on Adamant Fortress. Alyve had given Josephine the smallest of smiles as Cullen went over their strategy earlier in the meeting, and Josephine fought back an onslaught of anxiety. This battle would be their greatest yet, and it was far more daunting than the attack on Haven.

Between them, there were unsung affections toward the other. A part of Josephine wanted to tell her everything, to spill her heart out to her before Alyve left… and potentially never came back. But she didn’t want to distract the Inquisitor from doing her job. So she kept quiet, dutifully working on missives and assisting Cullen in their preparations for war.

Alyve also considered telling Josephine of her feelings, but did not want the ambassador to fret over her. If she came back, she decided, she’ll figure out how to sit her down and divulge her true affections. After all, if she could walk out of battle in one piece, she could handle a confession of romantic intentions.

“What makes her think she can stop the Calling?” asked Cullen.

“It has been done before,” said Leliana plainly. “Grand Enchanter Fiona was once a Warden, but something took all trace of the Calling from her. A Warden Mage named Avernus also found a way to prolong his life with magic. It wasn’t much, but enough to start the hunt.” She nodded firmly. “She will find a way. I have faith in her…”

“What would you like to do?” said Josephine, hopeful to assist her closest friend in giving her some peace of mind.

“I do not know where Harper is, precisely, but I know how to get a message to her. She may have information that helps the Inquisition. At worst, it will do no harm…”

“Go ahead,” Alyve finally added. “This might aid us when we finally march on Adamant. You and Josephine can draft a letter and send it as quickly as possible.”

“Thank you, Inquisitor,” said Leliana gratefully.

“Once we have the information that the Hero of Ferelden gives us, we can make our final move,” said Cullen. “Is that agreeable to everyone?”

“Yes, Commander,” said Alyve. “That sounds perfect.”

A few days later, the letter from the Hero of Ferelden arrived, one of Leliana’s ravens swooping inside the War Room. The spymaster snatched it up at once before anyone could make a grab for it. The other three regarded her with minor surprise, which Leliana caught and collected herself before opening the letter.

Two fell out, one of which was addressed to Leliana personally. The spymaster handed the other to Alyve, burying her nose in her private missive and blocking the others out.

Unfortunately, Harper wasn’t able to provide much assistance. She hardly had proper training during the first Blight, and Alyve wondered how in the Maker’s name she managed to slay an Archdemon and live to tell the tale. But she was doing just as Leliana told them: searching for a cure to the Calling.

Alyve read this all out loud, but her voice faltered when she began on the final paragraph, “‘I have also included a note of personal nature for Leliana. I was not there for the death of Divine Justinia, but I know it will have hurt her terribly…’” Leliana glanced up from her own missive, brows inching together. “‘While her wits and her skill are amazing, Leliana’s strength lies in her faith, and to have Justitina die strikes at her very core…’ Ah, I can stop—”

Leliana shook her head. “No. Keep going.”

“Okay. Uh—‘I beg you, if she is faltering, help her find her way back to the light. Yours, Warden-Commander Harper Amell of Ferelden.’”

All eyes were focused on Leliana, who was impossible to read. Suddenly she smiled slightly and shook her head. “She worries too much. Thank you, Inquisitor. This might not have helped us in the long run, but it has brought me some closure.”

* * *

The night before Alyve left for Adamant, she found herself unable to sleep. She had tried everything, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to rest her head when a life-changing battle would be happening sooner than she liked to think about. So, she decided to get up and seek out Josephine in the study. Fortunately, she was burning the candle at both ends, working without a care of the time.

“Good evening,” Alyve spoke up softly, Josephine glancing up. She regarded her with a sad smile.

“Good evening, Alyve. I assume you cannot sleep?”

“No, I can’t…”

“Neither can I.”

“Evidently.”

They were drenched in a heavy silence, Alyve fiddling with her hands as she awkwardly waited for Josephine to hopefully turn the subject into a pleasant one. Instead, the ambassador tapped her pen thoughtfully on a blank piece of paper, watching the ink spread like a Blight on the world.

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” she said needlessly.

A dry laugh, “So they say…”

“How are you feeling?”

“Terrified, but I’m managing pretty well, I think.”

Josephine set down her pen. “Alyve…” She debated on what to say next. Should she finally say what she desired? Or should she just hold her tongue? Choosing the latter, she sighed out instead, “You’ve got a great team by your side. If you’ve managed to evade harm for this long, I’m sure you can do it a while longer.” She was trying to convince herself of that mostly. And before she could stop herself, she admitted, “I… I wish you didn’t have to go.”

Alyve hesitated, brows inching together slightly. Josephine wasn’t looking at her, taking great interest in smoothing out the corners of some missives instead. When she didn’t say anything further, Alyve prodded her for more. “You’ve never had that problem before.”

Hotly, “This is different than sending you someplace in Thedas for a few weeks.”

“How is it any different?”

“You’re about to lay siege on a fort full of Grey Wardens, demons, and Maker knows what else!”

“And?”

“And!?” Josephine leapt from her chair. Alyve stepped back, eyes wide at this sudden burst. “What do you mean, ‘and!?’ You just said that you’re terrified!”

“I mean… yeah, sure, but I—”

“Do you know how terrified _I_ am whenever you leave for something of this caliber? Sure, I pray that you get back safe from the Hinterlands or the Western Approach or wherever you decide to venture off to when there’s work to be done—which is fine—but… but _this_?” Josephine’s fists were curled at her sides, angry tears boiling in the corners of her eyes. “Do you know how frightened I was after you vanished after Haven was invaded?” All Alyve could do was stare, gaping. The ambassador grumbled in frustration at her silence. “I was petrified. I wanted to go back for you. Someone who I was starting to become friends with through all the formalities and courtesies was lost. I thought you were dead!

“I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t rest. I barely had my head on my shoulders when Leliana and Cullen started to talk about our next move without you. _I_ was the one who sent out scouts once the dust settled. _I_ made sure we had people making rounds at camp to keep an eye out for you.” Tears started to flow freely. “And when you came back, hanging by a thread, I stayed by your side until Leliana finally pulled me away.” She distractedly wiped her cheeks. “I’m so tired of keeping my head whenever I see you off… Please… say something?”

Alyve carefully rounded the desk and pulled her in for a hug, keeping her as close as possible. “I… I’m sorry, Josephine. I didn’t realize.”

“I apologize for my lack of decorum here, but of course you didn’t.” Her voice is muffled by the leather of Alyve’s coat. “You’re always trying to be the one who saves me. Which I appreciate, do not misunderstand me. But I want you to know that someone else truly cares about your wellbeing… someone else wants to see you home.”

"I may not feel it as often as you do, but when the House of Repose had broken in... I couldn't breathe," Alyve told her. "So I understand how you feel, at least. That fear... that uncertainty. It knocked the wind out of me."

Josephine's grip grew a little tighter. “I'm okay now thanks to you."

"Still. It was... fuck, I was petrified. I'm sorry that I put you through that so often."

"It's not exactly something you can help. So many people love you, Alyve. You’ve honorably dedicated your life to helping Thedas for better or for worse. I'm not the only one who worries. Remember that.”

Alyve choked up, burying her face in Josephine’s hair. She smelled of cinders and cinnamon. “I’ll be sure to remember that when I’m out there.”

“Good…” Josephine stepped away, eyes bloodshot. She gently reached out and brushed Alyve’s hair from her face, smiling softly at the rosy cheeks of the Inquisitor. “I know this is not an easy job for anyone to do. Especially for someone who has been avoiding responsibility all her life.”

A light laugh, “Well, times have called for a little growing up, haven’t they?”

“Indeed.” Josephine grabbed Alyve’s hands in her own. “I know things will work out. They always do. With Cullen’s keen eye on our military strategy, I would be shocked if things went amiss.”

Alyve nodded sullenly. She truly was chilled right down to the bone about marching into Adamant Fortress to face off against these corrupted Grey Wardens. After all the work she and Josephine put into researching them, and all the stories Leliana shared about her time around two of the most famous Wardens in recent history, she knew that they were a force to be reckoned with. She was unsure if she had the strength.

She would be fighting alongside Mages and Templars alike… fighting for what was good in the world. To ensure Thedas lived to see another century. She was going to be involving herself deeper into a fantastical war that she never could have anticipated. If only Lysander could see her now… Which reminded her…

“Here, before I forget.” She unclasped her brother’s locket from her neck and handed it over to a curious Josephine.

“What is this?” she asked.

“My brother’s locket. After you spoke with Cullen, he found it for me. It was something he wore always. He said it brought him good luck… the last thing I want is to lose it on the battlefield. Will you keep it for me?”

“Don’t you want it to bring _you_ luck?”

“It’s been doing beautifully, but I want you to have that luck. You… You’re where I want to be, and what better way to ensure my safety than to give my desired destination the luck I need?”

Josephine’s watery gaze met Alyve’s. She set it around her neck. Perhaps now was the time to tell her. “Alyve, I…” She trailed off.

“Yes?”

“I just want to tell you…” She couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not yet, not now. Instead, she steered it someplace else. “Just… Please come back to me,” she whispered.

Alyve detected that there was something else, but she didn’t want to push Josephine to it. She gave her one last lingering hug and breathed into her hair, “I will. I _promise_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes. Some good ol' fashion angst for our gals.


	8. The Aftermath of Adamant

“They’re back!”

Scout Harding was at the door of the War Room, panting but grinning wide. Leliana immediately stood to attention, Josephine tentatively stepping around the War Table.

“They?” she asked, not wanting to get her hopes up.

“Everyone! The Inquisitor, Cullen—everyone is back!”

All at once, Josephine and Leliana bolted from the War Room and out of the castle, Harding at their heels. They stopped on the center landing to look down into the courtyard. The gates were opening and the Inquisition troops were trudging in, Grey Wardens marching among them. Leading the charge was Cullen, the members of the Inner Circle, and—to Josephine’s relief—Alyve. They were sullen, exhausted, and even bandaged… but thank the Maker they had returned.

The two weeks of waiting in agony were enough to drive Josephine close to madness. It took everything she had not to fly down the rest of the stairs and engulf Alyve in her arms. The three women watched as Cullen began to direct the remaining troops and Grey Wardens around Skyhold with the help of Varric. Dorian ducked out of the way and into the tavern. Cassandra and Alyve were the only ones who started the ascent up to the castle.

They paused at the landing once they realized the eager women were waiting for them. Cassandra took one look at Leliana before grabbing her hands and pushing her face against Leliana’s shoulder, much to the spymaster’s bewilderment.

“Cassandra?” Leliana whispered gently, rubbing circles in the Seeker’s hand with her thumb. “Is everything alright?”

“I need time,” Cassandra croaked. “The Divine… she…”

Quickly, “Divine Justinia? Cassandra, what in the Maker’s name?”

Cassandra only trembled in response. The joy of seeing them all return safe and sound had evaporated, leaving them only with worry and questions. Harding immediately went to Cullen’s side to see how she could help. Alyve’s face was empty, almost gaunt. Josephine took a tentative step forward, searching those eyes that had suddenly paled into a sickly shade of green.

“Alyve?” she prodded carefully.

Alyve seemed to snap out of it, but looked at Josephine as if she had never seen her before. At first, Josephine was frightened that was indeed the case. But the minute Alyve closed the gap between them, wrapping her arms around Josephine’s shoulders and burying her face in her hair, Josephine eased and hugged her back.

“What happened?” Josephine said.

“The Fade… we went into the Fade,” Alyve said hoarsely.

“What!?” both Josephine and Leliana yelped.

Cassandra pulled away from Leliana and exchanged a saddened glance with Alyve. “I think it’s best,” Cassandra began, “we discuss this in the War Room…”

Once Cullen had finished his duties, he met with the four women in the War Room. His face was gravely serious, arms folded behind his back as Cassandra and Alyve relayed all that had happened to them. It was visible struggle for them both, Alyve cutting herself off mid-sentence, Cassandra's face growing paler and paler. Eventually, Alyve completely shut herself up and let Cassandra take the reins in delivering the long and short of it. Alyve would write a report for her advisors later. They were mostly victorious, although they did lose many soldiers, a few Grey Wardens who fought against Erimond, and Stroud. Hawke had departed to Weisshaupt to deliver the news of what had occurred, but promised to keep in touch in case she was needed again.

The Fade’s effects had deeply traumatized those who had journeyed into it. Dorian was clearly drinking away his problems, Varric was hellbent on helping everyone he could now that he was back in Skyhold, and Cassandra had tearfully explained their encounter with Divine Justinia, Leliana at a loss for words.

Truly, Alyve did not speak much throughout this final update. Josephine kept staring at her desperately, begging for her to finally snap out of it… but she could not blame Alyve for remaining so taciturn. All she had experienced, all that was revealed… it was as though she had lost her will to keep fighting once the truth of it all had been shown to her.

After everyone was too tired to carry on, Alyve excused herself to her quarters before anyone could say anything further. Josephine’s hand stole up to the locket still around her neck, closing around it tightly and silently thanking the Maker that she was even back at all.

* * *

“Now that we have this information and the Grey Wardens have sided with us, we have to focus our efforts toward Empress Celene,” Leliana was saying.

“Who still refuses to acknowledge our warnings,” grumbled Josephine.

“With all that’s been going on, you’d think she’d _heed_ our warnings,” said Cullen. “Surely, Leliana, you’ve explained to her the gravity of the situation?”

“Of course I have,” said Leliana tiredly. “But the Empress refuses to hear me out. After all, she gets threats like that every day of her life in her position. What good would an explanation from me do?”

“Well, did you explain the dark future?” said Cullen.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“How mad would I sound if I were to explain that our Inquisitor had journeyed to a dark future wherein the Empress was dead and the world broke out into more war that we have now?”

“But—!”

“Cullen, please,” Josephine jumped in. “Leliana is right. The Empress isn’t listening to us, no matter how hard we try.”

He grunted, upset with the situation. “Yes, yes, you have a point.” He ran a hand over his face. “What do you think, Inquisitor?”

Alyve, in truth, had not been paying the slightest bit of attention. She had long since drowned out the discussion, her body aching from archery practice early that morning. Sera had joined her, so practice naturally turned into a friendly competition that lasted an hour longer than most drills. Then Alyve had spent the rest of her day bustling around Skyhold, stopping for nobody until a task was complete. Checking in on refugees, assisting in the care of the wounded, responding to countless letters from both ambassadors and admirers.

Not to mention the fact that Alyve was still shaken up from the events of the assault on Adamant Fortress. It had haunted her on the journey back to Skyhold and was still lurking over her shoulder. She had gotten better at hiding how all these unfolding events impacted her, but that battle still dug itself deep in her core. And the Fade… it haunted her nightmares in ways she could not describe.

When it occurred to her that the room had fallen silent, she lifted her unfocused gaze from the map to the expectant parties before her.

“Sorry… what was that?” she said without the slightest bit of shame.

“How do you want to act, your Worship?” asked Leliana patiently. “With Empress Celene ignoring our warnings, we have to think of how we can get to her without making a scene.”

“We have to reach the Empress before Corypheus,” said Cullen. “The only question is: how?”

“Now that you mention it, I just remembered something.” Josephine sifted through some nearby papers. “Just last week, we received the invite to the Winter Palace by Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons. It finally arrived after I put in a good word for the Inquisitor once we had settled in Skyhold. I had heard word of this peace-talk ball from my contacts… and now we are certain that it will be happening in a little over a fortnight. With that way in, the real question is: where is our enemy hiding? At the urging of Grand Duchess Florianne, the Empress is holding a ball. Absolutely everyone will be there. During the festivities, Celene will be meeting for peace-talks with the usurper Duke Gaspard and Ambassador Briala.”

“The assassin must be hiding within one of these factions,” said Leliana.

“Yes, but with Gaspard and Celene’s armies entrenched, we cannot openly march troops in the palace,” said Cullen.

“My agents will ensure your soldiers get inside, but it must be a few at a time to avoid attention,” Leliana assured.

“Understood,” said Cullen seriously.

“That leaves it to you, Inquisitor,” said Leliana. “Will you accept this invite?”

“Sure,” said Alyve distantly. “If that will help…”

“Excellent,” said Josephine. “I’ll send word to him at once.”

“Good… Forgive me, but it’s been a long day… well, a long _week_.” Alyve shook her head heavily. “If you’ll excuse me, I will be turning in for the night.”

“If you must,” said Cullen slowly, though his brow turned in concern.

“I do.”

And with that, Alyve trudged out of the War Room, rubbing a kink from her neck. The three watched her go, Leliana wringing her hands together in thought. Cullen looked back down at the map, unsure of what to say. Josephine kept her eyes fixed on Alyve until she finally vanished down the hall and out of sight.

“She’s been like that ever since she returned from Adamant,” said Leliana needlessly.

“She’s been like that with everyone, really,” added Cullen.

“Yes… everyone,” said Josephine quietly.

It was a little heart-breaking that Alyve wasn’t sharing her strife with her. Countless occasions, Alyve had lent a patient, loving ear to Josephine whenever she needed to air out her problems—even though it had taken Alyve a considerable amount of effort to encourage such. But now, Josephine felt helpless.

It wasn’t as though she was being secretive; just distant. They all knew why, for the most part, but Josephine had a feeling that Alyve wasn’t telling her something. It was a struggle watching her dear friend fight through such a cumbersome state of mind.

“Perhaps you should go see about our Inquisitor,” suggested Leliana, sensing the worry. “I’m sure she would appreciate your company.”

“I don’t think she wants any company,” said Josephine meekly.

“Sure she does. She’s just… she’s not herself. You should know that more than anyone.”

“I agree,” said Cullen. “If you leave the invite acceptance to Leliana and I, we can get that done for you as soon as possible.”

“Oh, I don’t want to burden—”

“I think we can handle it, Josie,” said Leliana kindly. “You know that you want to. And besides, her Worship would do the same for you. I know you want things to work out well diplomatically, but sometimes there are more important things than that.” Leliana offered her a smile. “Especially now. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes… Yes, you’re right.” Josephine set off for the door, but paused at the threshold. She said over her shoulder to them, “Thank you. Both of you.”

As Josephine passed by her desk, she gave her paperwork one last inkling of attention before heading out.

* * *

The Fade had been… terrifying. At least, that was the weak version of the story.

Alyve had never anticipated that she’d ever pass through the Fade while still living and breathing. Her faith told her she would pass through before she’d meet the Maker. She barely had any memories of the time she was in the Fade before this mess, and event then it only felt like a nightmare she woke from in the dead of night.

But this time… no, this time it had been wildly different. She as trapped in a waking fever dream, unsure if her next step would send her plummeting through the netherworld because it wasn’t really _real_. The others beside her were just as shaken up, especially Cassandra. After seeing the likeness of Divine Justinia—it really being her still up for heated debate by everyone—Cassandra had been deathly quiet throughout their journey.

What haunted her the most was what the fear demon made them see. The visions he conjured in their path made them all hesitate, even Hawke, who kept making rather dry quips that oddly lightened the mood every now and again. As they had made their way up a flight of stairs, Alyve had turned around to speak to Dorian, but had to do a double-take. For over his face was an apparition—it looked like his father’s face was ghosting right atop of his own. Alyve had only met Dorian’s father once, after he tried to deceive his son into meeting him, but it was his face, without a shadow of doubt.

“What?” he had asked, his voice muddied with one that sounded like his father’s.

“Dorian?” Alyve had to check, stepping a little closer.

The others had turned to see what was going on, and they immediately recoiled in shock.

“What’s going on?” Dorian had demanded impatiently.

“You… you look like your father,” Alyve had croaked.

Plunged in fear, “_What_?”

The fear demon had laughed and the vision blew away, leaving Dorian with his own face and voice once more. But he had paled significantly, clutching his staff with whitened knuckles.

As they had moved along, Varric suddenly cried out for Hawke, who whirled about confusedly. His trembling hands had clutched Bianca, aiming for something over Hawke’s shoulder. Tears were dripping over the tip of his nose, and he kept mumbling apologies over and over again until Hawke had rushed to his side.

“I keep putting you in danger,” he had said hoarsely.

“Bullshit,” Hawke had said, shaking her head.

“This is my fault.”

“Hey, Varric, everything’s okay.”

Varric had refused to tell them what he had seen over her shoulder, but he kept Bianca unsheathed for the rest of the way.

Cassandra had stopped dead in her tracks a while after, staring at Alyve… or rather, staring right beside her. Alyve tried to ask what was the matter, but the fear demon spoke first, his voice rattling their bones.

“Your Inquisitor is a fraud, Cassandra,” he had growled. “Yet more evidence there is no Maker, that all your ‘faith’ has been for naught.”

Alyve had glanced to her left where Cassandra was looking and yelped. Beside her was a doppelgänger, smiled snidely at the Seeker. It was holding the sword that Leliana had presented to Alyve when she was titled. Its armor was falling to pieces, Anchored hand spluttering and flickering.

“Don’t tell me that you actually believe in me?” the vision said with a hollowed version of Alyve’s voice.

“Cassandra, don’t listen to it,” Alyve had begged her, taking a step forward. “It doesn’t know what it’s talking about.”

“Can you actually believe that the Maker sent _me_?” the vision continued. “A noblewoman from Ostwick? One who hardly prays to the Maker, let alone has faith in Him.”

“Shut up!” Alyve snarled.

A bolt arrow flew through the vision a second later, making it vanish instantly. Varric reloaded Bianca, his face clouded over. Cassandra slowly turned to him, eyes wide.

“Nice try,” Varric said darkly. “But Seeker is too strong and smart to fall for that shit.”

Cassandra had swallowed thickly, nodding. Alyve approached her swiftly and grasped her shoulders, looking into her eyes.

“You know me, Cass. You have faith in me, in the Inquisition. We’re gonna be okay,” Alyve said strongly.

“Yes… Yes, I know you.” Cassandra furrowed her brow, lifting her chin and snapping to the sky, “Die in the void!”

The demon had merely chuckled and fell silent for a while longer.

He chose Hawke to mess with next.

After they fought their way through a few minor demons, cautiously moving through the labyrinth of the Fade, they came upon an open space. There was a wall made of what looked like skulls and rubble. Sitting on top of the wall was a woman that Alyve had never seen before, but Hawke had froze mid-step.

“Shit,” Varric had whispered.

The woman was beautiful, a blue bandana keeping her dark hair at bay. She was holding a book, reading it with disinterest. The moment Hawke had taken another step forward, the woman looked up and smirked.

“Freyja Hawke,” she purred, voice far stronger and clearer than the false Alyve’s had been. It was silky, seductive. It really _shouldn’t_ have been considering their predicament.

“It’s not her, Hawke,” said Varric. “Isabela is—”

“Oh, don’t listen to him,” scoffed the vision, closing the book.

Varric frowned. "Hm. Maybe it is the real Isabela after all."

“That’s the… the Tome,” Hawke said.

The vision arched a brow. “The one thing I ever cared about.”

“You know that’s not true,” Varric tried again, standing at Hawke’s side, finger hovering over Bianca’s trigger. “She came back.”

“You’re alone in this world, Hawke,” the vision said bluntly, running a finger over the spine of the Tome. “Your family is dead, Bethany had to run away thanks to your mistake, and I… I’m going to die because of you, too.”

“All this death tends to grow so tiresome, doesn’t it?” Hawke managed to counter.

The vision paused, frowning at her. “I beg your pardon?”

“Isabela would give me shit, sure, but she…” Hawke reached for her sword. “She would never let me face it alone in the end. Not the Isabela I know. You’re not her. You don’t have the right to even take her likeness.”

The vision’s face contorted with rage before vanishing with a poof. Varric had sighed in relief, a hand over his heart.

“Fuck, Hawke, how did you do that?” he asked.

“No idea. Let’s move on, shall we?”

Stroud was faced on with an army of Grey Wardens shortly thereafter, all of them gaunt and skeletal as they stared blankly at him. They pointed at him and started to wail, everyone covering their ears at the high pitched shrieks. Stroud begged for them to stop, but they kept on screaming. It was only when he plunged his sword into the first row did they dissipate, leaving him a quivering mess.

Just as they thought their journey was reaching its end, following after the light of Divine Justinia, Alyve caught sight of a graveyard. She wanted to press on, but curiosity got the better of her. The others followed her, uncertain of what they would stumble upon the moment they set foot inside.

The graveyard rippled as soon as Alyve passed through the gate. The air was stifling, freezing. Alyve leaned down slightly, reading the first tombstone… and immediately felt her heart plummet into her stomach.

_Blackwall. Himself._

The next one read: _Sera. The Nothing._ She followed the tombstones, breath catching in her throat. _Cole. Despair_; _Solas. Dying alone_; _Cassandra. Helplessness_; _Dorian. Temptation_; _Varric. Become his parents_; _Iron Bull. Madness_; _Vivienne. Irrelevance._

“By the Maker,” Cassandra said, staring at her stone, aghast. "These are our worst fears etched in stone."

“This is so invasive,” droned Dorian, but he was doing his best not to give his stone his attention.

“It’s too real,” said Varric.

“I’m rather offended that I’m not here,” said Hawke.

“I’m not,” said Stroud quietly.

“Maybe this is for me.” Alyve was stuck in front of Bull’s stone, unable to move. “These are the people I work closely with. The demon is trying to… I dunno, maybe he’s trying to get me to see your fears so you might appear weak. Or to shake me up.”

“Possibly,” said Hawke. She addressed Varric, pointing at his stone, “You know that you’re nothing like them, right?”

He sighed heavily, shaking his head. “I hope not.”

Alyve moved to the back row when she noticed that four of them were unmarked. She was about to point this out, but the moment she opened her mouth, three names carved themselves on respective stones, piercing the silence painfully.

_Cullen. Corruption_; _Leliana. Separation_; _Josephine. Losing_—

“Alyve.”

She bristled, her name spoken in a chorus of two voices. She slowly turned on her heel to find two apparitions she hoped to the Maker were the last she’d see in this hellscape. The first was Josephine, face stony and unfeeling. Beside her was—fuck, it was Lysander in bloody Templar armor. His sandy hair was caked in blood, a large, oozing scar slashed over his left eye.

“You’ve failed everyone, haven’t you?” Lysander said. “You’ve destroyed the last bit of hope that the world had of peace. You’re a mistake.”

“You’re not real,” Alyve said, voice wavering.

“Is that what you tell yourself? That I never existed to make yourself feel better?”

“What? No!”

He scoffed. “You sided with the Mages. I can’t believe you. After what they did to me?” He gestured to his armor. “Look at me.”

“That’s not… no…” Tears welled up in her eyes. “The Templars said they didn’t know who killed you.”

“Alyve, snap out of it!” shouted Dorian from somewhere miles away.

“I’m disgusted in you. You’re a disgrace to our family’s name.” His jaw set. “You’re not a Trevelyan. You’re not worthy to even be called the Inquisitor…”

“Yes, she is!” Cassandra bellowed. Lysander blinked at her. “She’s going to lead us to victory, and she will destroy you, you demon! Begone!”

He evaporated in an instant, but Josephine remained. Her eyes were trained on Alyve, still impossible to read. Blinded by heartbreak, Alyve made her way over to the one source of comfort in her direct line of sight.

“Josephine…”

“It’s not her,” said Hawke. “It’s just like Isabela.”

Alyve didn’t listen. She reached out to the vision, but it took a step back.

“Did you think I’d want you?” she said coldly. “Did you seriously believe that I would ever consider you more than a means to restore my family’s name?”

“This isn’t Ruffles,” said Varric. “She’d never… she couldn’t!”

“Alyve, listen.” Dorian was suddenly right beside the Inquisitor. “Look at her. She’s nothing like Josephine. The _real_ Josephine looks at you like you’re made of the stars themselves. She admires you. She trusts in you.”

Cassandra was at a loss for words. Of course, it was only Dorian who knew that Alyve harbored any feelings for Josephine, but she and Varric immediately caught on. It couldn’t have been more obvious that this was killing her to hear.

“I could never fall for someone so selfish. You’re a fool to believe that you’re meant to save us,” Josephine went on. “To save me. You fall for my charade time and time again.”

Alyve shook her head. “That’s not true. I will save us.”

Josephine held out her hand. “Prove it.”

Dorian tried, “Don’t—”

Alyve made a grab for her hand, but the ambassador’s apparition suddenly stiffened as a blade shot out from its chest. A member of the House of Repose rose up from behind her, a devilish smile across its face. Josephine began to dissolve along with the assassin. Dorian pulled Alyve back as Josephine faded away, tears streaming down the Inquisitor’s face, deliriously screaming for her Josephine.

The sound of the stone being carved shot through the air again. Those left at the graveyard turned to watch, Alyve’s name etched on the final stone beside Josephine’s.

_Alyve. Failure._

Varric looked to Josephine’s stone out of morbid curiosity. He groaned at the inscription that Alyve did not finish reading:_ Josephine. Losing her beloved._

“Don’t tell her,” said Cassandra distantly. “Not yet.”

“Let’s get out of here first,” agreed Hawke.

Dorian consoled the Inquisitor, the laughter of the fear demon echoing all around them. Hawke growled and gripped the hilt of her sword.

“I’m gonna ram this thing up that demon’s ass if I can help it,” she said darkly.

“Get in line,” said Varric.

It took a long while to calm Alyve, who was shaking like a leaf in Dorian’s arms. The Mage was frowning furiously down at the place were the apparition had vanished. False images or not, it had broke his friend’s heart in two.

Defeating it was no easy feat in the end. The demon kept flashing fears before their very eyes, distracting them so much that they would stumble. It wasn’t until Alyve landed the final blow did they manage to claim victory…

But the nightmare still plagued Alyve. Those visions they were all forced to face, their greatest fears demanding to be seen. The coldness in both Lysander and Josephine. She desperately convinced herself that they weren’t real. It wasn’t easy, but it was growing difficult to even look at Josephine without the memory of her snarling up at Alyve forcing its way forward… without the memory of her most recent fear being realized.

It was all she was thinking about during that meeting. It was something she couldn’t quite shake. She had to get away and try to refocus her thoughts, as difficult as it was proving to be.

So there she was, leaning on the railing of her balcony, doing her best to enjoy the sunset’s shades of gold and purple that kissed the mountains surrounding her. There wasn’t any beauty in the Fade, the air was barely breathable. Skyhold was so fresh with the snowfall that surrounded it, the wind that carried the scent of honeysuckle and jasmine from the gardens. The smoke from the campfires and fireplaces that would tinge her clothes with their memory.

She was back. She was alive. That was what was important.

The sudden clearing of a throat broke her from her thoughts. She glanced over her shoulder to find Josephine standing in the frame of the balcony door.

“Lady Montilyet,” Alyve greeted tiredly.

“Oh please, we are in private. We can go without the formalities,” said Josephine.

“You? Going without formalities?” Alyve gave a small laugh. “That’ll be the day.”

Josephine smiled, coming to stand beside Alyve. “You’re instilling bad habits in me… _Inquisitor_.” Her smile widened as Alyve rolled her eyes. Her smile dropped, however, when she reminded herself of why she was here. “Are you… alright?”

She knew, obviously, that Alyve was not in any sense of the word. But a part of her was half expecting Alyve to perk up and say “of course!” before punctuating the question with a laugh or a sarcastic remark. Instead, Alyve’s mood shifted entirely. The mirth in her eyes faded as she slumped even further against the railing, pressing her palms to her forehead.

“No, I’m not.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Josephine set her hand on the small of Alyve’s back. “Here. Come inside.” Alyve allowed Josephine to guide her back in, sitting on her couch, side-by-side.

“Has it been that obvious?” Alyve asked, staring down at her hands.

“Well, it has been to a couple of us… We’re worried about you.”

“Has morale gone down?”

“No. I don’t think anyone else has paid it any mind.” Josephine set her hands in her lap, unsure of herself. “After all, you haven’t really been around everyone for long periods of time unless it was for training purposes. Which reminds me, Cassandra has complained about you risking your well-being—with the best intentions. She is concerned that you are overexerting yourself, Alyve. As am I. Although, I haven’t been able to voice these concerns to you because this is the first time I’ve been able to even sit and talk with you since you got back. Forgive me, but it hasn’t been easy to watch you sequester yourself without proper explanation.”

Alyve didn’t respond immediately. Josephine was suddenly very aware of her tone, realizing that she did jump a little too quickly and harshly into this whole mess. She dipped her head in shame, a blush fluttering over her cheeks.

“I’m sorry… truly,” she said quietly after Alyve absorbed everything. “I didn’t mean to become so…” She sighed heavily. “It’s just… I’m very, very worried about you. You know this.” Josephine’s voice caught in her throat, surprising her. She felt the harsh sting of tears. She gripped her own hand, hoping to scrape some dignity back from her outburst. “You’ve always been there for me. I just want to be there for you.”

She couldn’t bring herself to lift her head up and look at Alyve, afraid that she would be met with anger. So she stared at her hands instead, waiting for Alyve to speak next. But Alyve did not speak. She simply reached over and grabbed Josephine’s hand, weaving their fingers together.

“You have every right to be upset with me,” Alyve said quietly after a long pause.

“I’m not _upset_. Like I said, I’m worried. I haven’t seen you quite like this before. Even after you returned from Redcliffe, it wasn’t this bad. This behavior is so unlike you, so I—I mean, I thought, perhaps… oh, I don’t know what I thought. What happened to you this time was horrible. I cannot blame you for feeling so overwhelmed.”

Alyve fell silent again, mulling over Josephine’s words carefully. Then, “What happened in Fade… it was awful and frightening and… I’ve never felt so cold.” Her breath hitched as her brain raced through the events that had transpired. “I’m not ready to talk about the specifics yet, but… just know that it was the most terrified I’ve ever felt in my life. The demon fed off of that, brought our fears to life. I have no idea how the others seemed to keep their heads.

“We all saw each other’s worst fears come to life. Even Hawke’s and Stroud’s. I can’t… I can’t even begin to describe the horror.” Her voice started to break and tremble, so Josephine moved one of her hands to Alyve’s back, rubbing it gently to ease her back to reality.

“You don’t have to tell me anything now,” she cooed softly. “Only when you’re ready.”

Alyve steered the conversation to something a little easier. It was still awful, but at least Josephine could weigh in on this more. “What was put on top of all this, and perhaps made me feel worse, was finding out that I wasn’t given this mark by divine intervention, per se… It was given to me by accident. All because I meddled in Corypheus’ plan to claim it for himself.” She gazed down at her Anchored hand, feeling it pulse with its power. “I’m a mistake. I’m a fool… a fool for even allowing myself to believe it was Andraste that really blessed me with the Anchor.”

“You are _not_ a mistake,” said Josephine strongly. “You were sent there to try to create peace between the Templars and Mages for a reason. You stumbled on Corypheus for a _reason_. I read the report that Cassandra gave to Leliana. She said that you were shown how you ran in. You burst into that room with the intention of rescuing someone. That’s noble, honorable. Nobody else stopped to help her.

“No matter the circumstance, you still came out of it with this power. Maybe the Maker or Andraste were there, working their will, and it just so happened to be this way. It was their way of rewarding you with the power instead. Someone who would use it for good, not evil.”

Shaking with tears, Alyve cried, “I’m so tired, Josephine. I’m _afraid_. And not just for myself, but for everyone. I’m sorry that I’ve been distant. I did not wish to hurt you or put you in a state of worry… All this happened all at once and I just…” She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m letting people down now that the truth was revealed.”

“The only way you’d let people down is if you fail, which you haven’t.”

“Are you joking? Do you not remember how I got here? By failing!”

“_Listen to me_.” Josephine wanted to shake her. “You have gracefully gotten back on your feet time and time again. And you won’t stop. Even if things fall apart, people will always find ways to either love or hate you, especially with your power. In the end, all that really matters is how _you_ feel about your efforts. But I know you won’t allow yourself to fall. You’re too stubborn for that.”

Alyve let loose a smile. “That’s true.”

“So, please… don’t think of this new information as a sign of weakness in who you are. You are more than your mark. How you use it is up to you, and you’ve been nothing but noble and passionate.”

“I’ve tried.”

“You’ve done beautifully.”

“Josephine, I apologize for keeping you in the dark about this. I suppose I was unsure if you wanted to hear.”

“I am the first person to want to hear of any plights you might go through.” Josephine’s voice was firm, but lovingly so. “You always sit patiently with me and let me prattle on about my business. I just want to do the same for you. All my life, I’ve mostly kept my thoughts of my work to myself. A moment of breaking was a moment of weakness. Even with my assistants, I struggle to exclaim how I really feel in the heat of it all. But you have gifted me a safe, judgement-free place to let it all out. It helps me feel free.” Josephine guided her hand to Alyve’s heart, pressing it there and feeling it beating a bit faster than normal. “This is where I go when I need someone to talk to. And I want you…” She placed Alyve’s hand over her own heart. “To do the same.”

Alyve’s eyes fluttered, shy color rising in her cheeks. It was a reaction Josephine had never truly managed to draw from the Inquisitor, and she found herself very pleased with it. After all, it was almost _always_ Alyve who managed to send Josephine in a flushed tizzy—unused to the attention lavished upon her in the confident, flirtatious manner that Alyve did so very often. Josephine wondered if it gave Alyve the same thrill to watch her get all flustered.

“Well, your Antivan exuberance is certainly showing,” Alyve said suddenly, a smile curling across her face.

Josephine cleared her throat. “I told you that I can be as such when the moment calls for it.” She steered the conversation back to her main point. “To continue, no matter what is troubling you, come to me so we can talk about it. Okay?”

The smile faded from Alyve’s face. “I… I don’t wish to burden you.”

“Nothing you say could burden me, my dear."

“But—”

“_No_. The one thing that I refuse to listen to are your excuses.” Josephine’s hand left Alyve’s heart, coming up to cup her face instead. “Please,” practically begging, “_please_ let me be there for you. I know that you’re a pillar of strength for so many people in this crazy world, but let me be the pillar of strength in yours.”

Alyve sighed and leaned deeper into Josephine’s hand. “Okay.” She was too tired to say anything more.

“Oh, and before I forget.” Josephine removed the locket from her neck. “This belongs to you.”

For the first time in a while, Alyve’s eyes genuinely lit up as she took the locket. “Thank you, Josephine. I almost forgot.”

“With the ball at the Winter Palace coming up, you’ll need all the luck you can get.”

* * *

“Inquisitor. May I have a word?”

Alyve looked up from some missives to find Leliana standing before her. Her form cast a shadow across Alyve as the sun beat down behind the spymaster. She was admittedly surprised to see that Leliana had sought her out. Hoping to have some fresh air and quiet time, she had taken her work out into the castle gardens. Her days were about to get harsh and ferocious, after all.

But Leliana seeking her out… Alyve wondered why. There wasn’t any sense of urgency, but then again, her spymaster was hard to read most days. There could be a fire in the kitchens and Leliana would report it with a straight face and an even stride.

“Is this about the Empress?” Alyve asked tentatively. They still had a while until they were to make their way into Orlais, and Leliana was in charge of such information.

“No.” Leliana folded her arms behind her back, fixing Alyve with a piercing glare that sent chills down her spine. “I notice you’ve paid Lady Montilyet quite a number of compliments, that you’ve been showering her with your attention.”

_Shit_. Despite the fact that Alyve didn’t mind other people knowing her fondness of Josephine, it made her blood run cold to know that Leliana, sharp as a tack, had been observing their every interaction. She probably picked up on Alyve’s hints faster than Josephine—that is, if the ambassador ever actually figured those hints out in the first place.

With a forced smile, Alyve tried for humor, “You’ve found me out, Spymaster.”

Leliana was still frowning. “An entanglement with our ambassador seems _most_ unwise. I asked Josephine to join the Inquisition because we needed a diplomat. Not so she could be toyed with.”

Alyve immediately matched her frown, brows pinching together. “Toyed with? I resent such a comment, Leliana. I enjoy being with Josephine. I’m not trying to break her heart, nor would I ever want to do so in the first place.”

“Then I would be more cautious,” said Leliana, searching Alyve’s face for any inkling of dishonesty. When she found none, she went on, “I’m sure you are well aware of my friendship with her.”

“I am.”

“Then I will tell you that Josephine’s no stranger to courtly intrigue. But love?” Leliana shook her head. “There she’s an innocent. She has _no_ idea you are truly attracted to her. If, indeed, you are.”

Hotly, “What do you have against the idea of me being attracted to Josephine?”

“I have not known you long, Inquisitor. Neither has Josephine.” She pursed her lips. “Though, I must admit that the pair of you have grown close. Which is perfectly fine and reasonable. Regardless, her heart is easily carried away. I want to be sure it is taken by someone who truly cares. So, that being said, if you feel anything towards Josephine, I want to know.”

That seemed fair to Alyve as she mulled it over. Leliana was being a loyal friend to Josephine, and Alyve expected nothing less. She knew that if she were in Leliana’s shoes, she would be doing the exact same thing. Indeed, she _has_ done such in the past with her friends back home. She was protective of those she cared about, and so she and Leliana were one and the same.

“Yes,” Alyve admitted finally, “I’m very attracted to Josephine.”

Leliana smirked, quirking a brow. As though she hadn’t figured it out long beforehand, she hummed lazily, “Is that so?”

Alyve fought the urge to roll her eyes. Leliana and her damn games. “Is that all, Spymaster?”

“Not quite. Whatever is between you, I ask that you treat her with kindness. For her sake… as well as yours.” Leliana towered over her, a blizzard running rampant behind her eyes.

Instead of allowing herself to be affected by such an obvious threat, Alyve smiled at Leliana sincerely. “Whatever happens, I’m glad to see Josephine has a concerned friend here.”

For a split second, the mask cracked and Leliana blinked in pleasant surprise. It was patched up immediately, but not without her finishing off their conversation with a shred of her weakness exposed. “I have so few friends these days. Those that are left I… deeply cherish.”

Alyve smiled knowingly. “Were the two of you happy together in the years after the Blight?”

There was a sparkle in Leliana’s eye. “Happier than you could imagine. The only shadow over our love was knowing that one day, I would lose her to the Calling. Her quest is for me, as much as for her. She knows how much I have lost.” With a small sigh, “I suppose I worry that Josephine will suffer as I do. Waiting impatiently for you to return to her side.”

“It’s good to know that Harper is safe. I’m sure that eased your worries.”

“Yes. She misses me. I very much needed to know she was still out there, fighting to be with me.” She bowed her head slightly in respect. “Thank you. It is a great relief, and I appreciate you allowing me to send the messenger.”

“It was no problem, Leliana.”

“Still… it was kind. I will not trouble you any further… but I do watch over my friends. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

Alyve laughed lightly. “I can only promise such regarding Lady Montilyet. Stupidity comes with the job of Inquisitor.”

Leliana actually chuckled at that. “Indeed. Good day, your Worship.” And with that, she walked away, letting the sun bask Alyve in its warmth once again.

She looked back down at her missive, mind running at a thousand miles an hour as she replayed their talk over and over. Even though Leliana promised to back off, it was enough to shake her to her core. It definitely gave her a lot to consider.

No longer interested in her work, Alyve gathered her papers and started to make her way into the castle. Perhaps she could return to them later when Leliana’s words didn’t ring like a bell in her ears.

In fact, she was trapped so deep in thought that she didn’t notice the very object of their conversation approach her cheerfully. Josephine cut right through her stupor, startling her, as she said, “Ah, there you are…! Oh. My apologies. I didn’t realize you were distracted.”

“No, no, you’re fine.” Alyve ran her hand through her hair. “Sorry. I was miles away. What did you need from me, Ambassador?”

Josephine cocked her head to the side. “I was just going to… never mind. You’ve clearly got plenty going on in your head. Is something the matter?”

“I…” Alyve was hesitant to tell Josephine all she and Leliana discussed, but she might as well take the leap of faith. She deserved to know, after all. And perhaps it was time to stop running from these feelings and face them directly. With the opinion of a third party, and the fact that Leliana never truly advised Alyve that Josephine wasn’t interested, it seemed like the perfect time. Otherwise, they might never get another opportunity like this. “Well, uh, it’s actually a bit funny.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Leliana just gave me quite the speech.”

“What about?”

“About us.”

Instead of appearing surprised or embarrassed, Josephine sighed in exasperation, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Oh, she is _impossible_.” She needed nothing more from Alyve. It was only a matter of time before Leliana dipped her toes in Josephine’s love life. She considered marching off to scold Leliana for putting Alyve in such a position, but she decided to take control of the situation instead. After all, such was her forte. “Might we discuss this somewhere more private?”

"Gladly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added the events of the Fade because I've been playing Inquisition with my fic in mind and also I love Hawke and Isabela a lot so. Yeah.
> 
> Anyway, we're finally getting to what we've all come here for!


	9. The Admission of Affections

“Leliana said I was ‘an innocent in love!?’”

“More or less,” Alyve confirmed, fighting a smile.

Alyve sat patiently on her sofa, watching Josephine pace in front of her. She had just gotten done telling her what Leliana had said, and it had fueled the ambassador with humiliation and disdain. The more Alyve had talked about it, the more Josephine’s face had clouded over. It had been awkward enough explaining Leliana’s side, forgoing her own responses and admissions of affection, lest it make Josephine uncomfortable. But she desperately wanted to stop beating around the bush. So she waited for the right moment to jump in and tell Josephine _everything_.

“Of all the—!” Josephine paused, hands flailing frustratedly at her sides. “I cannot believe that she—Well, okay, I _can_ believe that she—Such an inappropriate display of—You are the Inquisitor, and she just—Ugh!” She balled her hands into fists, out of breath. “I’m _quite_ capable of understanding our association.” She dipped her head and added quickly, “I-I-I’ve never thought your intentions were overly romantic, Inquisitor, I assure you.”

“Wait… what?”

“I mean, I’ve certainly… I won’t lie to you. I’ve caught the tone in your words. The sweet inclinations, the quirk in your smile. They’re honeyed, they’re… well, you’ve seen the way they make me react. That I cannot conceal. I do apologize if I… well, I understand that perhaps that’s just how you speak with your friends or… something like that. Complimenting them and the like.”

“My… my friends?”

“Well, surely they could not be romantically inclined towards me.” Josephine visibly deflated, her throat bobbing.

There it was. The golden opportunity to clear the air. And so Alyve sat up straight, looking Josephine dead in the eyes. “Would my intentions be unwelcome if they were actually romantically inclined?”

Josephine’s eyes widened, suspended in genuine surprise. “What? Oh, no! That is… I mean… we’ve only just…”

Alyve’s beautifully affectionate smile was the response. “Should I have composed a ballad? Or sent roses? I apologize if I wasn’t obvious enough.”

A small, nervous laugh escaped as Josephine began to pace again, albeit slower and purposeful. She kept her eyes trained to Alyve, however. “I didn’t wish to presume you harbored any tender feelings for me.” While her heart was overjoyed, so much so it was almost overwhelming, she still wanted to make sure that she wasn’t just trapped in a schoolgirl fantasy.

“I have no objections.” Alyve rose to her feet, pausing in front of Josephine, finally stopping her anxious pacing. “Presume away.”

Josephine’s heart all but melted. Her eyes fluttered as her cheeks burned. This was all too much, but she couldn’t get enough. “All this time… you’ve purposefully been flirting with me?”

“One hundred percent. While you are a treasured friend, I could not deny my attraction toward you. You’re rather… intoxicating.” Alyve cocked her head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Your intelligence is to be admired, your beauty would be the envy of Andraste herself.”

“Such blasphemous talk.”

“I don’t think she’d mind.”

“But… we haven’t even known each other a few short months. How can you declare this liking for me after such a brief time together?”

“I’ve never met anyone whose presence affects me like you do.” Oh, how Alyve’s gaze was so soft, so full of the most doting affection Josephine had ever seen. It was making it hard to look away. And that _smile_. Still bold, still breathtaking. “Perhaps it just means I’m a hopeless romantic, but there you have it.” There was a flicker of fear as she asked, “I do hope I’m not pressuring you with my feelings, Josephine.”

“No, not at all.” Josephine’s smile matched her own, doubts draining away. “I would not object to a… closer relationship between us, Alyve. If that sounds agreeable to you.” She was blushing so deeply that it was almost embarrassing, but she couldn’t help herself. But she noticed the dark red splashed along Alyve’s cheeks as soon as Josephine had admitted her own feelings, and it pleased her to have caused such.

Alyve took a step forward, green eyes darting down to Josephine’s lips and back up again. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“Well, then…” For once, Josephine was completely at a loss for words. It wasn’t any help that Alyve was drawing ever closer, almost entranced.

Just as Alyve carefully reached up to caress Josephine’s face, she joked lightly, “I’m actually quite glad Leliana prompted this talk.”

“I suppose she was right after all,” Josephine said, voice barely above a whisper. She made sure to add immediately, “Please don’t tell her I said that.”

Alyve laughed and brushed her nose against Josephine’s. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Tired of this building anticipation, Josephine leaned all the way forward and kissed Alyve, her hands grabbing the collar of the Inquisitor’s shirt. It was a proper kiss, a _real_ kiss. It ignited her like a fire, fueling the desire she had been storing for ages. Alyve was kissing back vigorously, her own hands cupping Josephine’s face and refusing to let her go. Josephine didn’t mind.

One kiss was followed with another… and then another. Nothing else in the world mattered as the two women finally set aside their doubts and their worries. Shortness of breath followed each heated kiss, but neither wanted to relinquish the other just yet. It was a long time coming, and it was _exquisite_.

It was Alyve that finally broke the moment, catching her breath, but smiling wide. She then simply pressed a kiss against Josephine’s rosy cheek, hands moving down to her waist, holding her tight and bringing her closer. Josephine hummed softly, basking in the attention lavished upon her, embracing the butterflies dancing in her stomach.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Alyve murmured against her skin.

Josephine chuckled softly. “May I know how long?”

“Maker… probably from the moment I first saw you.”

“You did _not_.”

“Alright, perhaps I’m being a tad hyperbolic.” Her heart leapt as Josephine laughed. “But I have felt strongly for you for quite a long time. I’ve been so fortunate to have met someone like you. I want to know: why was Leliana so set against us being together?”

Josephine smiled wryly. “Think nothing of it. She’d disapprove of anyone I chose to keep serious company with. Back in Val Royeaux, Leliana was practically my older sister. She’s a most dear friend… she only ever has my best interests at heart, I assure you. Although, I made sure to express my distaste in her choice of words when confronting you.”

“Ah, well… it led to this, so I really shouldn’t complain.”

“I must say, you made it very easy to fall for you. I didn’t want to push my luck, especially given your social status among the Inquisition, but I could not help myself.”

“As far as I’m concerned, when it’s just you and me, we were merely Josephine and Alyve. A Montilyet and a Trevelyan joining together in a manner in which we should.” She nuzzled another kiss just barely against Josephine’s temple, her breath tickling the shell of her ear.

Josephine bit back a shiver. “You certainly have a way with words when you really lather on the charm. How you haven’t pursued a career in diplomacy, I have no idea. With your honeyed words, you could bend anyone to your will.”

“Too much work. I’d rather use them on you. After all, you deserve them far more than some uptight politician.”

“Speaking of…” Josephine reluctantly pulled away, frowning apologetically. “I do have to return to work.”

Alyve pouted. “Already?”

“Unfortunately, yes… however, I would love it if you would join me for dinner tonight. We can take it before the fire in my study.”

“I’d be honored… Lady Montilyet,” she practically purred her name, and Josephine bit her lip, preventing a smile from bursting through. “See you then.” She kissed her sweetly, finally letting Josephine go.

It was as though she were walking on air as she descended the stairs. Her cheeks hurt from continuous smiling—it was like a dream. A beautiful, heart-warming dream that she never wanted to wake from. She hadn’t felt this way in years.

She was so involved in her emotions that she didn’t even see Leliana leaning against the wall just outside. It was only when Leliana cleared her throat did Josephine jump, whirling around and clutching her heart.

“Well? How’d it go?” Leliana asked, smirking knowingly.

Josephine drank her in, debating on where to even start with the spymaster. There were many things she wanted to say, to demand an explanation for. After all, Leliana had claimed Josephine was an “innocent in love,” which was the most ridiculous concept to the ambassador. Sure, she could be shy and easy to fluster, but she was not naïve. She wanted to tell Leliana that, and so…

“I am _not_ an ‘innocent in love,’” she began.

“She told you that?” Leliana said, although she was still smiling.

“Of course she did!”

“Hm. Well, I suppose it was my protective nature of one of my closest friends. For that, I am sorry.” She kept on grinning though, and Josephine knew that she wasn’t sorry in the slightest.

“You just _had_ to harass her.” Josephine folded her arms across her chest. “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t actually going to kill her—”

“You _threatened_ her?”

“Oh, she didn’t tell you?”

“Leliana!”

The spymaster laughed. “Like I said, I wasn’t really going to kill her. It wouldn’t bode well for anyone.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You still haven’t answered my question. How did it go?” Leliana watched, amused, as Josephine visibly melted from anger as memories of her little stint upstairs flooded forward. She fought a silly grin, trying to show Leliana that she was still quite upset with her. Leliana nodded knowingly “Ah, I see. It went well. Just do everyone a favor and avoid exchanging those flirtatious looks from over the War Table. It would spare Cullen from a heart-attack.”

Josephine was mortified. “As if I would—I am professional when I—the fact that you’d even—”

“Congratulations, Josie.” Leliana strolled away, leaving the ambassador a stammering mess. “It’s about time the two of you talked things through.”

“We’re not done here!” Josephine yelled after her, gaining the attention of those enjoying the main hall of the castle. Leliana kept on walking, however, merely waving a lazy hand over her shoulder to indicate she heard the empty threat. “Oh! I can’t believe her!” She marched back into her study.

* * *

With this newfound courtship, Alyve would visit Josephine every day, squeezing in rather distracting yet dangerously flirtatious comments as they strategized the events of the ball, the date looming closer. Per Leliana’s request, they kept it to a minimum inside the War Room—and were rather good at it, too. It was after the fact, when they lingered behind, did they get all smiley like new lovers do. Those visits were something to always look forward to, and it provided the ambassador with a well-deserved break from all the strenuous work. And, oh, how Alyve would say the most charming things that would leave Josephine reeling.

“How are you, my Lady?” Josephine had asked pleasantly one afternoon.

And Alyve had sighed out, “I’m courting the most beautiful woman in the entire castle. That helps a great deal.”

Josephine had giggled modestly. “Oh my. You flatter me much too much.”

The next thing Josephine knew, Alyve had convinced her to steal away to the garden shortly after where they hid from prying eyes to kiss each other senseless.

Alyve had also gone through great lengths to find Josephine’s family’s crest after she expressed her desire to find a copy. She had it sent to Skyhold all the way from Val Royeaux the minute one of her contacts informed her that it was gathering dust in a collector's shop. Josephine had been utterly delighted, embracing Alyve tightly and thanking her over and over again.

Of course, with the relationship came rumors. When Alyve had asked Josephine of such, Josephine had cracked a smile and confirmed that there were indeed rumors spreading throughout Skyhold. It was beyond her courtship with Josephine, however. The moment Alyve had become Inquisitor, people had paired her with all sorts of names. Bewildered, Alyve had pressed Josephine on spilling who people thought she was courting.

“I can only speak to what was whispered in several courts…” Josephine had started, suppressing laughter at the wide-eyed Inquisitor.

“Josephine…” Alyve had croaked.

She had sighed, still grinning. “To begin with? Cassandra, Leliana, Cullen, Dorian, Mother Giselle, Enchanter Fiona, Chancellor Rodrick, three arls, two counts, and some man named ‘Philip.’ Honestly, I don’t think he even exists.”

There was a pause as Alyve took it all in, prompting Josephine to burst out laughing.

“Not you? At all?” Alyve had said.

“Apparently not.”

“Well, they’re fools, the lot of them.” Alyve had kissed that grin right off her face, leaving her a blushing mess. “You’re the only one I ever desired.”

* * *

“Ah! Look at that smile!” Dorian said gleefully as Alyve passed him by in the library. “That can only be from your little courtship with Lady Montilyet.”

“What can I say?” Alyve said warmly. “She brings it out in me.”

“Well, I think it’s revolting,” he joked, earning a punch in the arm. “Ah, but I do have an interesting story for you. I was speaking with your darling Ambassador yesterday morning.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed. ‘Dearest Josephine,’ I said, ‘how remarkably distracted and flush you seem. Whatever could be the reason?’ Of course, everyone in Skyhold knows now. But still, I could not help myself. So after I asked her the question, she dropped. Her. Pen. Bravo, Inquisitor.” He clapped her on the shoulder like a proud father. “Bra_vo_.”

“Please do not harass her too much,” she said, but she could not stop the grin in response to Dorian’s tale.

“I cannot make any promises I do not intend on keeping.” His expression grew sullen a moment later. “Are you concerned that rumors of this courtship will reach Ostwick? Won’t your parents catch wind, and…” He fixed her with a sympathetic smile. “Well, you and I don’t have to pretend like we don’t know.”

“Fortunately, our troops seem to only gossip amongst themselves. Leliana and Cullen have taught them well to keep Inquisition secrets and rumors within their ranks, no matter how trivial they seem. I am not concerned.”

Unconvinced, “You really have that much faith in your people?”

“If they’ve got nothing else to discuss other than my courtship with Josephine, then they’re not doing their jobs. And besides, Harding always has her ear to the ground and will inform me if they’re slacking.” She squared her shoulders. “My relationship should be the least of their worries and, frankly, none of their business.”

Dorian noticed the slight raise in her voice, drawing the attention of a few lingering off-duty soldiers. He leaned forward and lowered his voice, looking Alyve dead in the eye. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you are concerned word will get out.”

Alyve pursed her lips. “Dorian, you know as well as I do that some noble families cannot be swayed to change their minds. As liberating as Ostwick can be, some older families still cling to their bloodlines.” She shook her head. “But I truly believe that our troops should keep my personal life out of their mouths.”

“Nobody can promise you that. Just remember that we do have the Winter Palace coming around the corner. Nothing shouts romance more like a dance in the center of the room. Keep her at arms length, no matter how much it might hurt.”

“Oh, she’s already informed me of that,” she said begrudgingly. “But I understand why.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “In regards to my relationship spreading, I will cross that bridge when I come to it.”

* * *

All her life, she had avoided parties to the best of her ability. Now? Now she had no choice but to meld back into the world of nobles and diplomats, all in the name of saving the Empress’ life.

At least, Alyve thought, she wasn’t forced into a complicated gown. Nor was she obligated to wear one of those hideous masks that everyone in Orlais was so keen on slapping onto their faces to guise their snobbery from the world. She detested them in passing, but now was subjugated to being in an entire palace with them. They were like creepy, haunted marionettes that followed her with their dead eyes. All of them fake, yet all of them very much alive and ready to pounce when she was least expecting it.

The tunic she was required to wear wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t quite her taste, but it was certainly better than a dress. Everyone representing the Inquisition was to wear them, which Dorian—and occasionally Vivienne—moaned about the entire journey to the Winter Palace. Aside from them, Cullen, Leliana, Josephine, and Cassandra were also accompanying Alyve to the ball. It was going to be the first time Josephine would witness Alyve in the field, and she hoped that nothing would go awry and put her and the rest of her friends in danger. The rest were capable of protecting themselves, but Josephine's strength was her intelligence and grace, not magic or swordplay. Alyve only hoped that Leliana slipped Josephine a dagger to protect herself if things did go downhill. If so, Alyve wondered if Josephine would even use it after her first "kill" as a Bard frightened her so.

The night was chilly but fresh, the stars shining perhaps a little too brightly down upon the Winter Palace. Men and women of high establishment were mingling in the gardens behind the gates. Alyve standing by just outside the wrought iron with the rest of her party as they waited for Josephine to give them all their positions. As far as anyone was concerned, this was all Josephine’s territory and she was the one truly leading the charge. There were no objections to such, their trust in Josephine standing sturdy.

Alyve was admittedly uncomfortable: constantly pulling on her gloves, her sash, and her collar. She kept shifting from foot to foot. Her eyes were darting from one person to another just beyond the gate, trying to get a read on anyone who might seem suspicious. In just a few moments, she would be stepping inside… stepping into a world that she despised. How she managed to fall for a seasoned diplomat, she had no idea.

She wasn’t really paying attention to the others, but she tuned in just in time to hear Josephine giving everyone a quick run-down on the political on-goings: “The political situation in Halamshiral hangs by a thread. The Empress fears our presence could sever it. The Grand Duke is only too happy to have us at the ball as his guests, so our invitation comes from him. Whether we act as his allies, or upset the balance of power, he gains and opportunity… if not a clear advantage.”

“What will you have us do?” Cassandra asked.

“You, Dorian, and Vivienne will be our eyes and ears among the people. Station yourselves someplace close by, but far enough away from each other to show that you are not conspiring. Mingle, play the Game, get information. Report to me, Cullen, or Leliana with any updates you deem necessary for immediate attention. We’ll be in the main ballroom with the Inquisitor.”

“Don’t worry, dearie,” said Vivienne, smirking. “I have most of this court wrapped around my finger.”

“I’ll try not to fall asleep,” drolled Dorian, rocking on the balls of his feet. “It’s a shame we could not bring Iron Bull to the party.”

“He would cause too much of a scene,” said Leliana, but she was smiling. “In fact, he’d _become_ the party.”

"You say it like it's a bad thing," said Dorian.

“Please don’t make this difficult for us,” begged Josephine. “This is a very delicate platform on which we walk. Fortunately, most of us have some kind of social standing so we won’t get as…” She regarded Alyve. “Harassed, as you might say.”

Alyve chuckled. “Don’t worry. I have complete faith in all of us.”

Josephine was, obviously, the one who was fretting the most. She certainly approved of Alyve’s choices in her companions, thanking goodness that the three had _some_ idea on how to deal with nobility—Orlesian or otherwise. Alyve was also no stranger to nobility, as Josephine was well aware, but she did worry that Alyve’s pride in her family’s name, as small as it might be, would get in the way when she spoke to a potential condescending diplomat.

“On that note, it’s time we make our entrance,” said Josephine, drawing herself up to her full height. “Cullen, you take Vivienne and Dorian in. Cassandra, Leliana, given your history, you should go together. I’ll accompany Alyve with our guard—Dorian don’t wiggle your eyebrows like that inside, please—and see about what we’ll do next. Make sure to be there for the introductions before you infiltrate the rest of the palace.”

They nodded in understanding and dispersed. Alyve gave Josephine’s hand a quick squeeze before letting it go. She had no idea if the rumor of their courtship reached this far in Thedas, but she wasn’t about to blow this all for Josephine by planting a kiss on her right then and there, let alone hold her hand.

Once she signaled that she was ready, she fell in the center of her loyal troops, Josephine walking swiftly behind her. The gates opened for them, and the troops lined themselves at the side to let Alyve and Josephine pass. Not five seconds in, they were immediately greeted by the Grand Duke himself. He opened his arms wide, as though he were going to embrace them all.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan!” he boasted, earning the curious glances from those chatting in the garden. “It’s an honor to meet you at last.”

“And you, Grand Duke Gaspard,” said Alyve politely, smacking on the uncomfortable mask of nobility. Although, hers was at least metaphorical, and not literal like the golden eye-sore on the Duke’s face. Alyve could feel Josephine hovering just behind her, carefully listening to all the Duke was saying.

“The rumors coming out of the Western Approach say you battled an army of demons,” said Gaspard, though he was still not keeping his voice down.

Alyve smiled tightly, not entirely keen on bringing up what was still a hard topic for her to discuss. “Yes, well—”

He kept going, as though he didn’t even hear the attempt at a pleasant back and forth. “Imagine what the Inquisition could accomplish with the full support of the rightful Emperor of Orlais!”

“I can, uh, see the many benefits to such an alliance,” said Alyve carefully.

He hummed—in disapproval or pleasure, Alyve couldn’t say. “Keep the image firmly in mind,” he said. “We may see it materialize by the end of the evening. I am not a man who forgets his friends, Inquisitor. You help me, I’ll help you.” He folded his arms behind his back. “Prepared to shock the assembly by appearing as the guest of a hateful usurper, my Lady? They will be telling stories of this into the next age.”

“I can’t imagine that crowd has seen anything better than us in their entire lives,” said Alyve, taking the route of buttering him up.

“I knew we would get along famously, Inquisitor,” Gaspard said, nodding in approval. _Success!_ “As a friend, perhaps there is a matter you could uptake this evening.” She could see him make a quick glance at Josephine, still lingering over Alyve’s shoulder, but decided to say nothing of it. “This Elven woman, Briala—I suspect that she intends to disrupt the negotiations. My people have found these ‘ambassadors’ all over the fortifications. Sabotage seems the least of their crimes.”

“Tell me there’s more to your suspicion than ‘the Elves were acting dodgy,’” said Alyve, earning a small, warning nudge from Josephine.

“That ‘ambassador,’ Briala, used to be a servant of Celene’s. That is, until my cousin had her arrested for crimes against the Empire to cover up a political mistake.” He chuckled darkly. “If _anyone_ in this room wishes Celene harm, Inquisitor, it’s that Elf. She certainly has reason.” He sighed. “Be as discreet as possible. I detest the Game, but if we do not play it well, our enemies will make us look like villains.”

Alyve once again _hated_ the masks because she could not see what this man was thinking. She wanted to rip it off his face. Instead, she merely nodded once in understanding, unsure of what else to say.

“We’re keeping the court waiting, Inquisitor. Shall we?” He tilted his head toward the palace.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” said Alyve. “Thank you, your Highness.”

He took his leave, Alyve’s tense shoulders relaxing. She hadn’t realized how stiff she had gotten. Josephine moved to Alyve’s side, frowning deeply.

“What do you reckon?” Alyve asked her.

“It’s hard to say. He makes a good point: we must be careful how we play the Game.” Josephine sighed heavily. Alyve was about to follow after Gaspard, but Josephine caught her, pulling her aside and out of earshot. “Inquisitor, before we go on, a moment, if you please?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sure you know how to handle most nobility, but the Game is nothing like the Free Marches’ intrigues,” Josephine began, trying not to sound condescending, especially with Alyve’s own upbringing. “It is no simple matter of etiquette and protocol. Every word, every gesture is measured and evaluated for weakness.” Her eyes wandered over to those who were watching the pair of them speak. “Even now, they judge us.”

“Don’t they sound delightful,” Alyve ground out, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “I’m shocked we haven’t invited the court to dinner at Skyhold.”

Seriously, “The Game is like Wicked Grace played to the death. You must never reveal your cards. When you meet the Empress, the eyes of the entire court will be upon you.” Josephine softened some as she said, “You were safer in the Fade with the fear demon.”

“That’s a bit dramatic,” said Alyve.

“Perhaps, but it’s certainly the best way I can compare the harshness of Orlesian politics.”

Joking, “You’re just full of joy and light this evening.”

Josephine reached out and lovingly smoothed Alyve’s sash. “I cannot help it. These waters are dangerous. Trust no one."

"Not even you?"

There was a flicker of a smile. "Everything will be fine,” she said, though it seemed as though she was trying to convince herself. She then mumbled, “Andraste watch over us all.”

“Josephine,” Alyve said softly, unable to stop herself from tenderly taking the ambassador’s busy hands in her own. “You’ve planned this all down to the last detail. If I know anything about how you plot out strategy, I know that nothing will go wrong.”

It was like Josephine was wrestling with the urge to kiss Alyve right there, for her eyes kept stealing glances down at the Inquisitor’s lips. Instead, she took a small step back, allowing their hands to linger before she slipped out of the comforting grasp of her lover.

“We shouldn’t keep the others waiting,” she said distractedly.

“One day, Josie, we’re going to proudly walk arm-in-arm into these very halls and damn whatever people think of us.”

“I _am_ proud of us. Proud of calling you mine. I just want to ensure that things go smoothly and that we are not the talk of the party.” There was a mischievous sparkle in her eye. “Some other time, we absolutely will be the talk of one. Just not this one.”

“You’ve been spending too much time around Dorian.”

With a groan, “Never say that again.” Alyve stifled a laugh behind her glove. Josephine merely shook her head. “Impossible. You’re impossible. Come along, darling.”

“Right behind you.”

Josephine spun on her heel and led Alyve toward the grand entrance of the palace. Alyve took in a deep breath as she walked. She heard whispers following after her. Her name—not her title as Inquisitor—was spoken wickedly, as though everyone knew she was the black sheep of the Trevelyan family tree. How funny it must be to them that Alyve was the one to lead the Inquisition and was now forced to partake in the Game. She grit her teeth and pressed forward, entering the palace before someone tried to catch her in conversation before she was ready.

“Ignore them,” she heard Josephine mutter to her.

“It’s hard,” Alyve admitted.

“I know, I know. But they’ve got nothing better to talk about now.”

“Are you quite sure you don’t want me to dip and kiss you right here so it can change their topic of conversation?”

“Alyve, by the Maker, please be on your best behavior and _keep your voice down_.”

With a suppressed snort, “I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

The palace was beautiful. Ornately decorated, lit perfectly to fit the mood of the evening. It even _smelled_ good as she made her way up the steps to the main entrance hall. She took her time taking everything in, her brain calculating potential escape routes and places to hide. She felt naked and exposed without her weaponry and armor, so used to them being on her person… she hoped she wouldn’t be without them for too long. As she scoped out the place, she felt three presences behind her. She turned to find Cassandra, Dorian, and Vivienne, ready to accompany her inside.

“Ah, good. It’s you lot,” she said.

“Glad to see you made it inside in one piece,” said Dorian.

“Me too.”

“I’ve got to go meet Cullen and Leliana,” said Josephine. “You four follow in a couple of seconds.” She nodded at Alyve. “Come to me if you need anything.”

“I will. Good luck.”

“You too.” And with that, Josephine entered the ballroom.

Alyve sucked in a sharp breath and counted to ten. Then she turned to her companions with a shaky smile. “You ready?”

“Whenever you are,” said Cassandra, giving her a supportive nod.

“Right. Let’s go.”

Two guards posted at the door to the Grand Ballroom opened it for them. She stepped inside, overwhelmed by the golden light and decor that greeted her. Among them was a steward, who bowed deeply in her direction and gestured for her and her party to make their way down the stone steps after Grand Duke Gaspard, who was currently descending the steps. She spied Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine waiting for her on the landing, eyes forward.

“Now presenting,” the steward was booming, “Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons. And accompanying him… Lady Inquisitor Alyve Trevelyan, daughter of Bann Trevelyan of Ostwick. Vanquisher of the rebel Mages of Ferelden, crusher of the vile apostates of the Mage Underground. Champion of the Blessed Andraste herself.”

Alyve reached the landing, her three companions right behind her, and bowed deeply in the direction of Empress Celene herself, who dipped her head in acknowledgement.

_If Mum and Dad could see me now_, Alyve thought humorously.

“Remember to smile,” whispered Vivienne, unheard by the rest of the court. “This is all for show, my dear.”

The steward kept going. “Accompanying the Inquisitor: Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena—”

“Get on with it,” Cassandra snapped, unable to help herself.

“…Pentaghast, fourteenth cousin to the King of Nevarra, nine times removed. Hero of Orlais, Right Hand of the Divine. Madame Vivienne, first Enchanter of the Circle of Magi, Enchanter of the Imperial Court, mistress of the Duke of Ghislain. Lord Dorian Pavus, member of the Circle of Vyrantium, son of Lord Magister Halward Pavus of Asariel.

“Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath, commander of the forces of the Inquisition, former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall. Lady Leliana, Nightingale of the Imperial Court, veteran of the Fifth Blight, mistress to the Hero of Ferelden.” Alyve heard Leliana groan to herself behind her. “Seneschal of the Inquisition and Left Hand of the Divine. And Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet of Antiva City, Ambassador of the Inquisition.”

“Good thing they haven’t figured out that you’re the Inquisitor’s lover,” Leliana snickered quietly at Josephine.

“That is quite _enough_, Leliana. Please. The last we need is for that to be the focus of tonight, thank you,” Josephine hissed.

Alyve tried her best not to laugh.

Gaspard began to move forward, prompting Alyve and her party to follow. They approached the Empress, Grand Duchess Florianne by her side.

“Cousin,” Gaspard began, nodding to Celene. To Florianne, “My dear sister.”

“Grand Duke.” Celene curtsied. “We are always honored when your presence graves our court.”

“Don’t waste my time with pleasantries, Celene. We have business to conclude.”

“We will meet for the negotiations after we have seen to our other guests,” Celene said calmly, and Alyve had to hand it to her. She was keeping quite the level head.

Gaspard bowed dramatically… and rather sarcastically before acknowledging Alyve briefly. He walked away in a minor huff, hands tucked firmly behind his back. The empress smiled down at Alyve kindly, something that was lost in a sea of pretentiousness in the Winter Palace. It was certainly a nice change. But Josephine's warning about trusting no one rang through, and Alyve realized that such a kind smile might not be so whilst playing the Game.

The rest of her party took to Gaspard’s example and made their way to their positions for the evening, leaving Alyve alone with Celene and Florianne.

“Lady Inquisitor,” Celene greeted warmly. “We welcome you to the Winter Palace. Allow us to present our cousin, the Grand Duchess of Lydes, without whom this gathering would never have been possible.”

Florianne curtsied at Alyve. “What an unexpected pleasure. I was not aware the Inquisition would be part of our festivities.” She turned on her heel and over her shoulder, she said, “We will certainly speak later, Inquisitor.”

“Your arrival at court if like a cool wind on a summer’s day,” the empress said.

“Let’s hope the breeze does not herald an oncoming storm,” said Alyve coyly.

Celene’s smile shifted almost knowingly. “Even the wisest mistake fair winds for foul. We are at the mercy of the skies, Inquisitor. How do you find Halamshiral?”

“I have no words to suffice. Halamshiral has many beauties, and I couldn’t do them justice.”

“Your modesty does you credit, and speaks well for the Inquisition. Feel free to enjoy the pleasures of the ballroom, Inquisitor. We look forward to watching you dance.”

Alyve bowed respectfully as Celene followed after Florianne. As Alyve returned to the main floor of the ballroom, Leliana caught her arm. Alyve furrowed her brow curiously, but all Leliana said was, “Inquisitor. A word, when you have a moment.”

“Right. I’ll be with you shortly… Mistress to the Hero of Ferelden.”

Leliana shot Alyve a warning look before letting her go, disappearing into the crowd. Alyve chuckled; it wasn’t often she got to tease Leliana. She decided to see to her in a moment. She wanted to find Josephine first and see how things were going so far. She picked her way around the guests, stopping every so often when someone called for her attention. She made sure to be as vague and coy as possible, playing the Game to the best of her ability. If she continued to play her cards right, she might just have the entire court on her side.

That wasn’t to say that the court didn’t lend their needless opinion on Alyve’s choices through the last few months. It was rather obnoxious to hear such judgement, but she did not tell them so.

As she searched for Josephine, she finally heard her familiar voice nearby. She pardoned herself around a few chattering nobles to find her lover engaged in conversation with a masked noblewoman. Josephine appeared to be stressed… although it was different from her urgency earlier.

“Tell me, Yvette,” she was saying, “how are Mama and Papa? Are they in good health? Do they want for anything?”

Yvette! It was her sister! And she was all smiles, unlike Josephine. “Papa’s perfectly happy in the studio. _Mother_ is the same as always.”

Just as Josephine was about to say something, Alyve materialized at her side.

“There you are,” said Alyve, a small smile of relief on her face. “I was worried I’d lost you too soon.”

“Here I am.” Josephine also seemed rather relieved to have someone else to talk to. “How are you fairing out there?”

“I’m managing. I’m afraid I’m not very well-versed in the Game.”

“From what it sounds like, you’re doing beautifully. As I knew you would, my darling—”

“Josephine!” Yvette gasped, drinking in Alyve’s presence. “Oh, Josephine, is this her?”

Josephine groaned tiredly at her pet name slip-up. “Inquisitor, please allow me to present to you my younger sister. Yvette Gabriella Montilyet.”

Alyve fixed Josephine with a small smirk and said, “There can never be too many Lady Montilyets in Thedas, can there?”

An unimpressed expression crossed over Josephine’s face as Alyve grinned widely at her. Yvette only giggled into her hand. “Inquisitor, I’ve heard so much about you!” she went on. She frowned at her older sister. “But not as much as I want. Josephine writes, but she never _tells_ me anything.”

Mortified, Josephine shook her head warningly at Yvette. “Now, don’t you go asking personal questions.”

Yvette ignored her. “Is it true you and Josephine are going to elope and move to the Anderfels and join the Grey Wardens and fight darkspawn?”

Alyve blinked, a stupefied grin on her face. Did Josephine seriously say such a thing?

“_Yvette_!” Josephine hissed.

“I want to know!” Yvette complained.

“I already packed our bags, didn’t I, darling?” Alyve said, unable to contain her own laughter.

“I knew it!” Yvette cried excitedly.

“Inquisitor, _please_ give her no more ammunition. I beg you."

“My apologies,” Alyve chuckled. “But I must know where she even got such an idea.”

“Rumors, obviously,” Josephine said quickly, shooting Yvette a dangerous look.

Alyve wasn’t fooled. “Josie, would you really be up to fighting darkspawn with me?”

“I never said _that_,” Josephine bemoaned.

Yvette, on the other hand, was utterly delighted. But before she could say anything else, Alyve raised a hand in surrender. “Alright, alright. No more teasing… Lady Yvette, why don’t you tell me about yourself? This is the first time I’ve encountered any of Josephine’s family.”

Yvette scoffed in Josephine’s direction. “She _would_ forget to mention the artists. I’ve been studying painting under Antiva’s royal tutors. You should be proud, Josie. I’m going to be exhibiting my work next season in the city’s biggest salon.”

Josephine wasn’t convinced. “Have you actually sat down and finished a painting yet?”

“I must wait for my inspiration!”

“And _I_ must wait for your tutor’s bills.”

Watching them interact both warmed Alyve’s heart and sunk a hole in it, as well. For she dearly missed the conversations she had with her brother that were too similar to this. If he were here, he’d no doubt find some way to embarrass Alyve just as much. Or, at the very least, grill Josephine for all the details of their relationship just as Yvette was doing. Alyve bit back some nostalgia and decided to switch to something lighter for her own sake.

“Enjoying the ball?” she asked politely.

Josephine tried, “I see many of—”

“The dancing is _so_ dull, your Worship,” Yvette cut in. “But the Empress’ gallery is _magnificent_!”

“Yvette…” groaned Josephine.

“Sorry, Josie,” sighed Yvette, folding her hands in front of her.

“Go on, Josephine,” Alyve said, offering Yvette a kind smile, which the younger Montilyet returned.

Josephine cleared her throat, annoyed. “Half Val Royeux must be empty, so many of the Empire’s finest are in attendance. They’ve noticed the Empress paying you special attention, but they don’t quite know how to take advantage of it yet. This uncertainty won’t last long, I’m afraid.”

“I see.”

“With that being said, please keep an eye out for anything. The Game is harsh, and we are never safe as players.”

“Ugh, Josie, such seriousness,” complained Yvette.

“You haven’t the slightest idea what’s going on. Mind yourself.”

“She’s so mean to me.” Yvette rounded on Alyve. “How can you stand her?”

“I…” Alyve glanced at a very offended Josephine. She simply smiled and said, “I wouldn’t want to be around anyone else.”

Josephine locked onto her for a second before smiling appreciatively. “Such an eloquent save, your Worship,” she quipped.

“But it’s true.”

“Awh.” Yvette cooed and clasped her hands over her heart, earning a stupendous eye roll from Josephine. “How sweet.”

“Alright, alright, that is quite enough.”

“Ah, actually,” Alyve said, “before I go, I must ask one last personal thing. If I have your permission, Josephine?”

“If you must.”

She turned to Yvette. “This may be the only chance to hear about when Josephine was a girl without her omitting the details.”

“Alyve!” Josephine gasped.

“Oh, yes!” Yvette lit up. She immediately launched in with, “Has she told you about when she was ten and—”

“Yvette. Stop,” said Josephine, shaking her head.

“Fine. What about when we were climbing the cliffs by the—”

“_No_.”

“Ooh! She once told the Duke of—”

“Absolutely not.”

“Hmph!” Yvette whirled around and grabbed Alyve by the shoulders and said as fast as she could, “She still plays with her doll collection when no one’s looking!”

“Yvette!” scolded Josephine savagely. She pried her sister’s hands from Alyve’s sleeves, smoothing the wrinkles out. She attempted to bandage the damage done, “That’s… absurd. Absolutely preposterous!” All Yvette did was snicker behind Josephine’s back as the ambassador dragged Alyve away from her. “I’ll deal with you in a moment,” she barked at her sister.

“Nice to meet you, Lady Trevelyan!” chirped Yvette.

“You as well, Lady Montilyet!” Alyve waved.

Josephine yanked Alyve to an empty balcony and folded her arms across her chest, brow lifted disappointedly. Alyve could only smile guiltily.

“I’m sorry, Josephine,” she cooed, closing the space between them, cradling Josephine’s face in her hands now that they were alone and away from prying eyes. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“You’re lucky I don’t throw you over the railing for dragging me through the mud,” said Josephine, but Alyve could hear a hint of humor betraying her stony expression.

“Is it true that you still play with your doll collection?” Alyve had to ask.

Josephine scoffed. “No, it’s not. When I was in my youth, before I went off to university, I did a few last times so I could feel like a child again. So I could leave them behind. I don’t even know where that collection has gone.”

“Ah, I see. So Yvette was merely stretching the truth.”

“As she tends to do.” Josephine shook her head. “Yet you egged her on.”

“Truly, I am sorry.” Alyve pressed her forehead against Josephine’s. “Fortunately, I would have been in your shoes if my brother was here.”

“I… oh.” Josephine hadn’t thought of that. It was no wonder that Alyve was so keen on teasing her with Yvette. “Yes, well, I’m sure Lysander and I would have got on swimmingly and would have teased you into oblivion.”

Alyve chuckled. “Of that, I have no doubt… You know, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll tell you something embarrassing from _my_ youth.”

Genuinely curious, “Oh?”

“Mhm.”

“Well… make it quick before you have to get back to the party. Being gone for too long will hinder your approval with the court.”

Alyve mulled through her rather clumsy past before she finally landed on one that her brother always gave her shit about well into their life. She brushed her nose against Josephine’s, thrilled at the smile that curled along her face from the small gesture.

“I once shot an arrow in my father’s shoulder during practice,” she admitted.

Josephine’s eyes widened. “You _what_?”

“Yeah. I was eleven at the time. He still has the scar and everything.”

Josephine clapped her hands over her mouth to prevent a laugh. Alyve brought them down at once to steal a kiss—something she had been dying to do all night.

“There,” she whispered against her lips. “Now we’re even.”

“Hardly, but I’ll let it slide.” Josephine reluctantly stepped back. “Alright, go back inside and see to the rest of the party.”

“As you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a minute.
> 
> But yeah, the Winter Palace quest is my favorite, and I'm toying with writing out mostly the whole thing (at least the important bits like Morrigan's appearance). Let me know if that's something you'd want to see.


	10. The Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry that this took forever to get out to y'all. Enjoy!

After parting ways with Josephine, Alyve slipped between the crowds of noblemen and women. She would occasionally have no choice but to speak with someone. Sometimes it was about the Inquisition, sometimes it was about the Trevelyan family. She didn’t know which she preferred. After all, correspondence between her and her parents were… short, to say the least. She actually had Josephine help her in drafting letters to her family. Indeed, it was the ambassador who offered her assistance in the first place, knowing how uncomfortable Alyve was in talking to her parents behind a piece of parchment and a bottle of ink.

She did find someone who looked just as uncomfortable as she felt. Cullen was blossoming into quite the wallflower—leaning on a table and wearing the tightest smile she had ever seen. There were several nobles surrounding him, some talking directly to him, others obviously admiring him from afar. Deciding that they both needed some reprieve from the slimy chaos of the Game, Alyve approached him.

“Inquisitor!” he said, a bit too enthusiastically. He cleared his throat and gave a stiff nod instead. “Did you need something?”

“Just a chat,” Alyve said pleasantly. “How are you fairing?”

He gave a furtive look around the room. “Orlesian social events don’t fall within my area of expertise.”

“I can see you’ve attracted a following. Who are all these people?”

Cullen grimaced. “I don’t know,” he whispered, “but they won’t leave me alone.”

Alyve fought the urge to grin. “I take it you’re not enjoying yourself.”

“At this point, the headache I’m developing is preferable to the company.”

“Aside from your new fans, have to noticed anything out of the ordinary?”

“I’ll let you know at once if I do. There are few here we can trust. Be careful. The sooner we track down this infiltrator, the better.”

“Who do you think the Inquisition should support?”

“Gaspard’s claim to the throne is fair. Orlais needs someone capable to the crisis at hand. A military-minded leader seems the best option.”

Alyve felt a pair of eyes on her. It was Leliana, hovering nearby. She didn’t want to keep her spymaster waiting any longer, especially not during such events. They were treading dangerous and delicate waters while bantering with the delegates. Alyve nodded at Cullen, taking her leave.

“We’ll talk later. Hang in there, Commander.”

Cullen looked like he wanted to beg and plead Alyve to remain behind and help him fight off the people itching for his attention. All she could do was shrug and approach Leliana.

“I was just about to go looking for you,” said Alyve.

“I figured you’d be pulled into a whirlwind of conversation before you would even get the chance,” said Leliana. Her eyes were not on Alyve, but scanning the crowd around them. Then, with a small scoff, “Look at Lady Cambienne’s slippers. Trimmed with pearls _and_ emeralds? And those buckles! Toss her into the lake, and she’ll sink right to the bottom.” She shook her head. “What a disaster.”

Alyve’s brows shot into her hair. “There’s a Tevinter assassin on the loose, and you’re concerned about buckles? On shoes?”

“Everyone needs a hobby,” was the response, as if there was no other excuse. “Besides, you can learn a great deal about a person from their clothing. Gold and jewels on a dancing slipper. A slipper is easily lost, and finds itself in the dust and dirt. She is _unconcerned_ with the possibility of losing the shoe or soiling it. A vulgar display of wealth. But Lady Cambienne’s family has recently lost most of its holdings. They have their title, but little else. _So_.” Leliana’s lip curled into a mischievous smile. “How did Cambienne acquire such a grand shoe, hm? What had she done? Who has she bedded? These are all useful questions, no?”

“I… I suppose. You’re definitely different here, than in Skyhold. More… approachable, perhaps?”

“This is Halamshiral, Inquisitor. This is the Imperial Court. This is the beating heart of the Great Game. Of course everyone is wearing a mask. I learned this very young. I was still a girl when I attended my first ball. All this? The smiles, the small talk? It is a dance. And like any dance, it can be learned.”

“Are you sure? Because I seem to have two left feet whenever I try.”

“For some of us, it has become so familiar that the steps may be performed in our sleep.”

“Like you and Josephine.”

“We are examples, if you’d like to call us such. But you _can_ learn, Inquisitor. I understand that it is not your favorite task to do, but if you keep your mind closed to it, you’ll stumble with each lesson. It would bode you well to play the Game to the best of your ability, especially as the Inquisitor.”

“Not as a Trevelyan?”

“From what I know about you, your family’s name is the least of your worries. But to business, what did the Duke say?”

“He points the finger at Ambassador Briala.”

Their voices were hushed, but Leliana was playing it off like their conversation was nothing of importance. Alyve knew it was to keep prying eyes and ears away, but she had no idea how Leliana was doing it so flawlessly.

“The ambassador is up to something, but she can’t be our focus,” said Leliana, arching a brow and fiddling with her gloves.

“Who do you think the Inquisition should support?”

“What we need most of all is a stable Orlais. Either Celene or Gaspard can give us that. And our priority now is to figure out who is willing to uproot the stability. The best place to strike at Celene is from her side. Empress Celene is fascinated my mysticism—foreseeing the future, speaking with the dead. That sort of rubbish.” Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “She has an ‘occult advisor.’ An Apostate who charmed the empress and key members of the court as if by magic.”

“You’ve never had problems with magic usage before, Leliana,” said Alyve.

“Not like this. This is… different. I know this ‘advisor.’”

Thunderstruck, “What?”

“Yes. I’ve had dealings with her in the past, during the Blight. She is ruthless and capable of anything.”

“But how can Celene openly keep an Apostate in the Imperial Court?”

“The Imperial Court has always had an official position for a Mage. Before now, it was little better than court jester. Vivienne was the first to turn that appointment into a source of real political power. When the Circles rebelled, technically every Mage became an Apostate. The word lost much of its strength.”

“Do you think she’s controlling the minds of the court? That’s… that’s powerful _blood_ magic.”

“She’s worth investigating. Can’t be sure of anything here. Furthermore, both leads point toward the guest wing. It’s a promising place to start. I’ll coordinate with our spies to see if I can find anything better.”

With that in mind, Alyve began to make her rounds of the gala once more. She desperately wanted to be at Josephine’s side the entire evening, but she knew that the price was too high (and that Josephine simply would not _let_ her) to stay put.

As she fought through the crowd, glancing over at Josephine and Yvette every now and again, she happened upon Vivienne, working her magic on those around her quite beautifully. She beckoned Alyve over, and Alyve could feel the swoop of nerves in her stomach—the came chill Vivienne seemed to bring with her every time they spoke. Judgement without saying it directly to one’s face.

“From what I’ve heard, you haven’t embarrassed yourself as much as I feared,” was the first thing out of her mouth. “Well done, my dear.”

“Thank you?”

A hum of approval. Anyway…

“It seems like you enjoy this, Vivienne.”

“This is the Game, Inquisitor. Of course I enjoy it. If I didn’t I’d be dead by now.”

“So, I’m just barely surviving off the skin of my teeth?”

“Essentially.”

“I’ve always wondered, what’s the damn Orlesian fascination with masks?”

“We all wear masks, my dear. Not just the people in Orlais. Who you are as a daughter, a lover, a friend is not the same as the woman who speaks for Andraste and leads the Inquisition. Orlesians codify this truth, make it visible. By giving each of these selves its own separate face, they believe they can be their truest selves, unmasked.”

Bluntly, “That still doesn’t make the slightest bit of sense.”

“To you, maybe.”

Alyve resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Anything happening I should know?”

“Keep an eye out for Celene’s pet Apostate. I’ve no doubt she’d involved in this.”

“You know of her, too?”

“I know of everyone, my dear.”

Alyve didn’t know who was more cryptic and confusing: Leliana or Vivienne.

“Tell me, Vivienne: where do you want the crown to fall?”

“What I want is irrelevant, darling. Orlais requires stability, and that is best served by Empress Celene. Though, it is strange that I haven’t seen much of Grand Duchess Florianne. One could always find her clinging desperately to the empress’ skirts before.”

“Any words of wisdom for navigating the ballroom further?” asked Alyve, readying herself for another round of delegations.

Seriously, “Speak to the Council of Heralds. Six of them are here tonight. The seventh member of the council is… indisposed.” She frowned. “His absence will complicate the negotiations. The Council are the highest ranking players of the Game. They see everything. The might know something we can use.” She gave Alyve a pat on the arm, which surprised the Inquisitor greatly. “Don’t worry so much, my dear. I’ll be ready when the time comes to strike.”

Alyve went off on her own once again. It didn't get any easier, navigating these judgemental seas. Every moment was agonizing. She longed for a satisfying pint with Sera and Bull back at Skyhold's pub. No doubt, that's what they were doing now as she tumbled her way through the Game. Even listening to Solas blab on and on about himself and his time in the Fade sounded more appealing that all this nonsense.

She almost stuttered out her true feelings of disdain to the face of an elderly noble woman, but she could feel a ghostly hand smack her mouth shut before she said anything. She didn't know who the hand belonged to, but she could have sworn she saw Vivienne staring her down from the other side of the ballroom. Unable to take the stuffiness of the ballroom any further, she decided to get some fresh air (and perhaps a drink or two if she could stomach it). Just her luck, she didn’t find a drink that suited her, but she did manage to find Dorian in the gardens, sipping something bubbly and looking positively bored out of his mind.

“This is all so familiar,” he said as Alyve got closer. “I half expect my mother to materialize from the crowd and criticize my manners.”

“What if your mother were actually here? Where would we be then?”

“Short one Mage, after he’s dragged out by his earlobe.”

“I’m having difficulty picturing that.”

“Picture me a young boy of five years, then. She certainly always has. I mean, just _look_ at what I’m wearing. Josephine is quite lucky that she’s got you backing her, otherwise I would have burned these the moment she presented them to us. Mother would be having a fit. It’s certainly nothing I’d wear back home, oh goodness no.”

Alyve smiled. “Is this how the elite of Tevinter carry on?”

“You could almost mistake this for the Imperium. The same double-dealing, elegant poison, canapés… it’s lacking only a few sacrificial slaves and some blood magic.” He smirked. “But the night is still young.”

“Let us hope that it doesn’t come to that at all.” Before Dorian could make a quip, she pressed on, “Have you seen anything I should know about?”

“Other than an overabundance of lavender perfume? No, nothing extraordinary. Although, did you see what that marquis is wearing? That suit is a greater crime than anything we’re looking for. Even _our_ suits aren’t quite as nightmarish.” He sighed, as though the night was weighing him down. “I _am_ trying to keep watch for magic. You know Tevinters. We can’t cross a room without casting a spell. If there are Tevinter agents here, we’ll find them.”

“Well, Dorian, I expect a dance before this is over.” She was half-joking, but she wouldn’t mind a dance with her dear friend.

He laughed. “You? Dancing with the evil Magister, in full view of every noble in Orlais? How shocking.”

“That’s the point.”

“Delightful. If you find me ten silk scarves, I’ve got a dance that will _really_ shock them.”

“You’d give Josephine a meltdown.”

“She’ll live.”

“In any case, I appreciate that you were willing to come here.”

“And expose myself to all this exquisite finery and exotic wines?” He took a long sip of his drink, polishing it off. “Such hardship.”

“Not everyone’s likely to be friendly, that’s all I meant.”

He offered her an appreciative smile. “It’s true. You’d think I smelled of cabbages, the way they wrinkle their noses."

"Is that not the scent you're wearing tonight?" Alyve teased.

"Not tonight, no. Maybe I'll wear it the next time Solas complains I speak too loud in the library back at Skyhold. As far as tonight goes, it’s of no concern, but thank you. Any anyway, shouldn’t you be off trying to sneak around for some secrets of your own?” He wiggled his brows. "Or convince you lovely ambassador to steal away for an hour or too."

"That would not be productive."

"Who said anything about productivity? It would be _fun_."

“You're impossible, Dorian. Try not to get too drunk while I’m gone.”

“You ask so much of me.”

He was already hailing a server the moment Alyve turned away. With an endearing roll of her eyes, she continued her exploration of the gardens. She engaged in a rather dizzying conversations with Empress Celene’s ladies in waiting, but it did provide some important information about Duke Gaspard that she would relay to Leliana shortly.

In the library, she finally indulged in some wine as she eavesdropped on dignitaries, nobles, ambassadors, and servants alike. Briala's name was whispered from the mouths of the Elves that worked in the palace, and Alyve made sure to keep that in mind. Even though Leliana said that the Dalish ambassador wasn’t their priority, Alyve wanted to make absolutely sure. Besides, anything that could stop Celene’s assassination was useful at this point.

When nobody was looking, she searched through empty rooms for incriminating figures that would help build the case on who would be attacking Celene tonight. She even managed to wander through the hallways of the palace, sneaking by guards and servants, picking up all she could find that might be of service. She had to make sure that she wasn’t out of sight for too long, lest she raise suspicion, or worse (in Josephine’s opinion), court approval.

After deciding that she had enough to give to Leliana to piece together for now, she returned to the vestibule where Leliana was waiting. She was talking with Cassandra when Alyve approached.

“Anything to report?” Leliana asked.

Alyve nodded. “Plenty. It wasn’t easy, but I managed to find my way around. I had Dorian distract some people for me in the gardens while I searched.” She looked at Cassandra. “How are you fairing?”

“This ball is a waste of time, like all Orlesian foolishness,” was the reply, a scowl on her face so deep that it made her scar positively frightening in the dim lighting of the vestibule. “Orlesians pretend their petty squabbles are a ‘game.’ Yes, let us treat murder, corruption, and deceit as delightful amusements. How wonderful.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Alyve grunted.

“Oh, both of you keep your voices down,” scolded Leliana.

“We are here to save Empress Celene, and it galls me,” Cassandra snapped back. “Why does she merit our protection? The empire would be better off without her. Gaspard is the leader Orlais needs in this crisis.”

“You support the civil war?” Alyve said, raising her brows.

Cassandra shook her head. “Of course not. Chaos is what Corypheus wants, and we must oppose him. Were it up to me, however, I would let Celene fall and Gaspard take the throne. He would see the true threat, not spend his time throwing balls and writing letters.”

“I dunno. He seemed more than a little thick when we met.”

“Remember, Alyve, it’s all a part of the Game. Maybe he wanted you to perceive him that way in order to gain your interest,” said Leliana. “Appearing as a puppet to be controlled, only to take on a life of its own once given the power, is an interesting move.”

“Either way, we will pass that bridge when we come to it. The point is to leave this ball with peace intact and someone on the throne without a knife in their back.”

“Have you witnessed anything noteworthy?”

“As I was telling Leliana, nothing yet. But I’ll be watching for trouble. The sooner we leave this place, the better.”

“Excellent.” Alyve turned to Leliana. “Shall we return to the ballroom, then? See if Cullen or Josephine have anything for us?”

“Good thinking.”

“Excuse us, Cassandra. Stay alert.”

“And you stay out of trouble,” Cassandra said, leaning her weight a bit heavier on the pillar.

They made their way toward the ornate double doors. Just as Alyve was about to open it for Leliana, a voice slithered its way across Alyve’s skin, making the hair on the back of her neck stand. Leliana’s jaw tightened.

“Well, well, what have we here?” the voice said, silky like the finest Orlesian bedsheets. It commanded attention, and attention it received. For both Alyve and Leliana turned toward the voice.

Down a flight of steps, shoes clacking against the cold stone, came a woman with dark hair and golden eyes that told stories of a life made of magic and power. Her painted lips were curled into an almost permanent smirk. All around her was an air of… well, Alyve would call it purpose and ambition. Leliana would call it pompousness and vanity.

“The leader of the new Inquisition, fabled Herald of the faith,” the woman continued. “Delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of Blessed Andraste herself. Or so they say.” She stopped in front of the pair, eyes locked onto Alyve with such deliberate intensity that Alyve nearly feared for her life if she were to dare to look away. “What could bring such an… exalted creature here to the Imperial Court, I wonder? Do even _you_ know?”

Unsure if this was the advisor Leliana was speaking of, but had a hunch that it was absolutely the same woman, Alyve played the Game to be safe. “We may never know. Courtly intrigues and all that.”

“Such intrigues obscure much, but not all.” She bowed her head. “I am Morrigan. Some call me advisor to Empress Celene on matters of the arcane. You… have been very busy this evening, hunting in every dark corner of the palace. Perhaps you and I hunt the same prey?” She regarded Leliana for a moment, but did not spare Alyve the onslaught of her gaze for long.

“I don’t know—”

“Do we?” Leliana stepped in, her patience snapping in half so suddenly that it took Alyve by surprise.

Morrigan looked back at Leliana, and her smirk curved just a bit deeper. “Leliana, dear. It has been too long.”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t know the Inquisition would be here,” Leliana said hotly.

“Rumors can simply exist as such. But I will admit, the Inquisitor’s presence did take me by mild surprise. I assumed that you would do all the sneaking around yourself. But it just goes to show that your operation is far more organized than the ragtag team of degenerates we had as we traipsed about Ferelden. I supposed Harper and Alistair had to take what they could get as the remaining Wardens, hm?”

“We’re being careful,” Alyve stepped in. She figured she should avoid triggering Leliana’s past with Morrigan, but she couldn’t deny the morbid curiosity bristling in the back of her mind. Just who was this Morrigan woman, and what had she been to Leliana, the Hero of Ferelden, and King Alistair. Alyve knew that Leliana had traveled with those two during the Blight, but…

“Not unwise, here of all places,” said Morrigan to Alyve, but her eyes were still stuck on Leliana. “Allow me to speak first, then.” She finally pulled her attention from Leliana and started to walk into the Hall of Heroes. The duo followed. “Recently I found, and killed, an unwelcome guest within these very halls. An agent of Tevinter. So I offer you this, Inquisitor: a key found on the Tevinter’s body.” She turned abruptly, flicking her fingers so fast that the key seemed to materialize right between them. She handed it off to Alyve, Leliana stunned beside her. “Where it leads, I cannot say. Yet if Celene is in danger, I cannot leave her side long enough to search. _You_ can.”

“Briala’s people are whispering about disappearances in the servants’ quarters. This key may lead there.”

Morrigan considered this. “The ambassador does have eyes and ears everywhere, does she not? As do you and your agents, I’m sure.”

“Why are you doing this, Morrigan?” Leliana said after a beat. “After all this time, you’ve never been one to assist others. Not unless you gained something in return.”

“Isn’t it at all possible that I have changed?”

“No.”

Morrigan let out a small laugh. “I can’t reveal all my cards, Leliana. You should know that by now. It’s just one big game of Wicked Grace here.” She looked at Alyve. “Proceed with caution, Inquisitor. Enemies abound, and not all of them aligned with Tevinter. What comes next will be most exciting.” She bowed her head again, but before she left, she said over her shoulder, “Oh, and Leliana… his Majesty would like a word with us later.”

“He’s here?”

“Indeed. And he’s massively uncomfortable. Poor fool doesn’t even own a mask for events such as these. Won’t you join us soon? For old time’s sake?” When Leliana didn’t respond, Morrigan only clicked her tongue. “Give it a thought.”

Once Leliana and Alyve were alone, the spymaster drew herself up to her full height and folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t trust her.”

“I gathered that. But she’s given us our biggest lead.”

“It could be a trap.”

“Leliana, we can’t leave this be. If she’s telling the truth, it’ll be of the utmost importance.”

A battle of pride and duty was fought across Leliana’s face. She closed her eyes, begging the Maker for patience, before opening them and licking her lips. “Fine,” she said with such reserve that her voice could have been made of steel. “But take Dorian, Vivienne, and Cassandra with you. We can’t lose you for a number of reasons, but losing you to Morrigan’s tricks would be…”

“A wound to your pride?”

Leliana frowned savagely at her before taking her leave. Alyve would apologize later.

* * *

She followed Morrigan’s lead, gathering her companions and entering the servants’ quarters. What greeted them on the other side was pure carnage. Corpses littered the floor and blood was caked between the cracks of the stone. The four of them examined the scene, trying to piece together what had happened.

And so they searched as quickly and quietly as possible, darting through the halls and sneaking by servants minding their own business. It was going fine until they stumbled into one of the many courtyards of the palace. There they discovered a dead Council of Heralds emissary with the Chalons family crest on the dagger in the victim’s back.

It wasn’t long until Venatori agents stormed the courtyard, led by a harlequin that just barely evaded the Inquisition’s fire. She vanished within a smoke bomb and appeared on a balcony before bounding off.

Once their enemies had fallen, they made their way into the complex maze of apartments within the palace. They came across several Venatori agents on their way, taking them down as quickly as possible without making too much noise to attract their nosy attentions of the gala deeper within.

As they kept pressing forward, they ended up finding some agents in a rather large bedroom. After ridding them from the space, Alyve took a quick look around the room for any last minute extra secrets, instructing the others to do so, too.

“Anything helps,” she said. “Leliana will take all she can get.”

With some effort, they found a key to Celene’s vault, opening the door and revealing its rather expensive contents within.

“It feels wrong, sneaking into her things like this,” said Cassandra.

“If it saves her life, I think we’ll be fine,” said Alyve. “We won’t linger long… in fact…” She caught sight of something glimmering on the floor. “I don’t think we need to stay at all. Look at this.”

“A locket?” said Dorian.

“An _Elven_ locket,” said Vivienne, awed. “Well, well, well.”

“This might prove to be useful.” Alyve tucked it away. “Come on, then. Let’s go before we’re caught and before we’re missed any longer.”

They left the room in a hurry, rounding the corner into a dark, windowed corridor. More agents were waiting, charging at them first. With quick reflexes, the four sprung into action and cut them down. The last one standing was just about to get in a good strike on Alyve, but he was forced to the ground by a flying dagger to the face. Alyve lowered her bow, eyes narrowed as a masked Elf appeared in the hall.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said casually, strolling up to them. “Shouldn’t you be dancing, Inquisitor? What will the nobility say?” She stopped before Alyve. The little of her face that could be seen was unreadable. “We haven’t been properly introduced, have we? I’m Ambassador Briala.” She finished with a short, polite bow.

“Alyve Trevelyan. Nice shot, Ambassador. You saved me from explaining how I got a battle wound at a party.”

“I assure you that you would not have been the first nor the last who would have suffered such, even at the most exquisite and exclusive of galas.” She observed the bodies strewn across the floor. “You cleaned this place out. It will take a month to get all the Tevinter blood off the marble. I came down to save or avenge my missing people, but you’ve beaten me to it. So… to business. The Council of Herald’s emissary in the courtyard. That’s not your work, is it?”

“He was dead when I arrived.”

“I expected as much.” She paused, looking Alyve up and down. “You may have arrived with the Grand Duke, but you don’t seem to be doing his dirty work. I knew he were smuggling in chevaliers, but killing a council emissary? Bringing Tevinter assassins in the the palace?” She shook her head, a snarl on her lips. “Those are desperate acts. Gaspard must be planning to strike tonight.”

“Are you sure he’s behind this? He was too… easygoing for a man plotting treason.”

Briala scoffed. “Don’t let his charm blind you. He’s Orlesian. That smile is his mask.”

“Or perhaps the mask is his mask,” said Alyve sourly, unable to stop herself.

Fortunately, Briala smiled at that. “I misjudged you, Inquisitor. You might just be an ally worth having. What could you do with an army of Elven spies at your disposal? You should think about it.”

“You now how to make a sales pitch, Ambassador. I’ll give you that.”

“I do, don’t I?” She folded her arms behind her back and began to walk out to the balcony. She stood with her back turned toward Alyve, standing on an exposed edge that overlooked the gardens below. “I know which way the wind is blowing. I’d bet coin that you’ll be part of the peace talks before the night is over. And if you happen to lean a little bit our way? It… could prove advantageous to us both. Just a thought.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“See that you do.” And with that, Briala nimbly leapt from the balcony.

“There is so much conniving and backstabbing here,” said Dorian wistfully. “It makes me homesick.”

“More politics and double-dealing,” Cassandra huffed from behind Alyve. “Is there anyone here who is not corrupt?”

“It’s the Game, my dear,” said Vivienne with a smile. “Everyone plays it here.”

“Everyone needs to stop playing before I flip the table over myself,” grunted Alyve. “Come on. Let’s get back quickly and have a word or two with Gaspard.”

* * *

They were in clear when they returned. Nobody seemed to notice or care that they had vanished, so they blended back to their posts with ease. Alyve entered the ballroom, eager to find her advisors and report all they had found, but she was greeted by Florianne, as though she had been waiting for her.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan?” she said. “We met briefly. I am Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons. Welcome to my party.” She curtsied, and Alyve bowed in return.

“Why am I not at all surprised that you want to see me now?” Alyve said.

“This is Orlais, Inquisitor. Nothing happens by accident.” Her smile that could actually be seen was… Alyve almost wanted to say venomous, but she wasn’t so sure if she was just coming down from the high alert mode she had been in during her excursion of the palace apartments. “I believe tonight you and I are both concerned by the actions of… a certain person.” She crooked her finger, commanding Alyve to follow as she made her way toward the sunken dance floor. “Come, dance with me. Spies will not hear us on the dance floor.”

The first thing Alyve wanted to say was that she was a taken woman, but this was just a part of the Game. Josephine would kill her if she let their relationship get in the way of crucial information. So—

“Very well. Shall we dance, your Grace?” She offered her arm to Florianne, who’s smile only widened.

She took Alyve’s arm. “I’d be delighted.”

They walked down the steps, falling in line with the rest of the dancers. Alyve’s favorite part about any party her family forced her to attend was the dancing, and she thanked her younger self for indulging in at least one part of noble grooming.

As she and Florianne began the dance, the Duchess spoke, “You are from the Free Marches, are you not? How much do you know about our little war?”

_Play the Game_, a voice that sounded way too much like Josephine’s said in the back of her head. “What do you think I ought to know?”

“My brother and my dear cousin have been at each other’s throats for too long. It took great effort to arrange tonight’s negotiations. Yet one party would use this occasion for blackest treason. The security of the empire is at stake. Neither one of us wishes to see it fall.”

“Do we both want that, Lady Florianne? Alyve asked coyly.

“I hope we are of one mind on this,” was the response.

As Alyve twirled her under her arm, “In times like these, it’s hard to tell friend from foe, is it not, your Grace?”

There was a small laugh as Florianne came face to face with Alyve. Their hands clasped, Alyve’s other hand went to her waist, Florianne’s to her shoulder. They floated around the dance floor, and Alyve could feel eyes on them. “I know you arrived here as a guest of my brother, Gaspard. And have been everywhere in the palace… You are a curiosity to many, Inquisitor… and a matter of concern to some.”

“Am I the curiosity or the concern to you, your Grace?”

“A little of both, actually. This evening is of great importance, Inquisitor. I wonder what role you will play in it.” She lifted her chin, and Alyve could almost hear the quirk of her brow behind the elegant mask. “Do you even yet know who is friend and who is foe? Who in the court can be trusted?”

“I only trust the Inquisition. It’s every woman for herself here in the Imperial Court. Or so I’ve heard.”

Alyve’s eyes briefly flickered up to those watching above. Her advisors were among them, carefully keeping their eye on the pair as they danced. There was a small feeling of relief when Alyve noticed that Josephine did not look upset that Alyve was dancing with Florianne in the slightest. It was all a part of the Game, and Josephine was smart enough to know and understand that without question.

“In the Winter Palace, everyone is alone,” Florianne said, gaining Alyve’s attention again.

_You’d be surprised_, Alyve thought.

“It cannot have escaped your notice that certain parties are engaged in dangerous machinations tonight.”

“I thought ‘dangerous machinations’ where the national sport in Orlais?” Alyve had to give a great effort to keep the sarcastic bite from her tone.

She dipped her partner, both their verbal and physical dances coming to an end. It was then Alyve noticed that they were the only ones left on the dance floor, everyone applauding them.

They started to walk off the final steps, Florianne whispering rapidly, “The attack will come soon. You must stop Gaspard before he strikes. In the Royal Wing garden, you will find the captain of my brother’s mercenaries. He knows all Gaspard’s secrets.” They paused and parted, bowing and curtsying to one another respectively. “I’m sure you can persuade him to be forthcoming.”

Alyve stood straight and smoothed out the wrinkles on her tunic. “We’ll see what the night has in store, won’t we?”

“Indeed… thank you for the dance, Inquisitor.”

“Anytime, your Grace.”

Without hesitation, Alyve made her way to her advisors. She was practically overflowing with information, and they needed to make a plan before the night was over. They were waiting for her in an unoccupied corner nearby the steps. As she approached, Josephine was the first to speak.

“You’ll be the talk of the court for months,” she said, almost breathless. “We should take you dancing more often.”

“It’s a relief to do something other than fight demons and horrors,” said Alyve.

“You still face demons and horrors.” Josephine smiled wryly. “These ones are simply better dressed.”

Alyve smiled back, a sigh escaping with it. “I can’t argue with you there.”

“I can’t believe you were _dancing_ with Duchess Florianne,” said Leliana.

“More importantly,” said Cullen, “what happened in the servants’ quarters? I heard there was fighting.”

“I hope you have good news,” said Josephine, the humor evaporating in an instant. “It appears the peace talks are crumbling.”

Alyve fiddled with her gloves, threading her thoughts together. For a moment, she forgot that she had a glowing green scar in the center of her left hand since the gloves masked the light, but the slight throbbing reminded her of it in an instant. “The Grand Duchess tried to convince me Gaspard is the traitor, but I’m not sure I buy it.”

Leliana hummed thoughtfully. “Florianne and her brother as thick as thieves, but she would give him up in an instant to save herself.”

“Then… the attack on the empress _will_ happen tonight,” said Cullen, his brow furrowing.

“Warning Celene is pointless. She needs these talks to succeed, and to flee would admit defeat,” said Josephine.

“Then perhaps we should let her die,” said Leliana bluntly.

“What?!” Alyve was horrified. “I won’t stand by and _let_ her die! Don’t you remember what’s supposed to happen when she gets assassinated?”

“But you were presumed dead, too,” Leliana reminded her. “As far as I’m concerned, we still technically have the upper hand on this situation. Listen to me carefully, Inquisitor. What Corypheus wants is chaos. Even with Celene alive, that could still happen. To foil his plan, the empire must remain strong. This evening, _someone_ must emerge victorious.”

“And it doesn’t need to be Celene,” said Cullen with a nod of understanding. “She’s right.”

Josephine, it seemed, was on Alyve’s side of disbelief. She let out a small scoff and took a desperate step toward the other two. “Do you realize what you’re suggesting, Leliana?” she said in a heated whisper.

“Sometimes the best path is not the easiest one,” said Leliana.

“You’re asking me to decide what’s best for Orlais,” said Alyve, crossing her arms, barely able to wrap her head around the idea.

“More than that,” said Cullen seriously, and Alyve groaned. “Whoever controls the Imperial Throne will affect all of Thedas.”

“Ah. A light and easy decision,” Alyve said sarcastically.

“You cannot stop Corypheus _without_ a decision,” said Leliana. “You must support someone, or all is lost.”

“Then we should support Celene,” Josephine added quickly. “She is the rightful ruler. Why should we say otherwise?”

Alyve gestured silently toward Josephine, raising her brows at the others in question. Leliana sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Cullen answered, “Because she led Orlais to this point. I say Gaspard, provided his sister is wrong about him.”

“And if she isn’t?” Alyve pressed. “We can’t be too sure. And what does that say about us, backing an attempted assassin?”

“She’s right,” agreed Josephine. “We can’t just leap into his support group without assurance he isn’t trying to murder his cousin.”

“I would suggest Briala,” said Leliana suddenly.

Genuinely surprised, Alyve asked, “Briala? Really?”

“She could bring true peace, not only to the Empire, but also to its Elves.”

“It would cause quite the scandal,” said Cullen.

“Perhaps,” Leliana acknowledged. “But with the Inquisition supporting her, there might be less backlash than what would normally be expected.”

“This is, however, your decision, Inquisitor,” said Josephine. “Not ours.”

“I…” Alyve shook her head. “I can’t decide this. Not yet.”

Frustrated, Leliana spoke, “You must. Even inaction is a decision, Inquisitor.”

“You could speak to Celene in the ballroom,” said Josephine calmly. “But she won’t act. Not without proof.”

Cullen rubbed his chin. “If Gaspard is guilty, he’ll admit nothing. If he’s innocent, he knows nothing. We need the truth.”

“What did Duchess Florianne tell you?” Leliana asked Alyve.

“She said Gaspard’s mercenary captain is in the Royal Wing. That he knows about the assassination.”

“Which could be a trap,” reasoned Cullen.

“Or a lead,” Josephine pointed out. “Either way, you should search the private quarters in that wing for clues.”

“Then get me access,” said Alyve. She nodded at Cullen. “And in the meantime, get your soldiers into position.”

Cullen stood to attention. “At once. Be careful, Inquisitor.”

As Leliana and Cullen started off to prepare the hidden troops, Alyve gently grabbed Josephine by the arm to keep her from following.

“Do you think I’m making the right decision?” she said. “I feel like I should be the last person meddling in political affairs, Inquisitor or not.”

“Knowing what we know about the… alternate lives we could have led, I almost feel as though it’s up to us, as the Inquisition as a unit, to keep it from playing into Corypheus’ hands one way or the other.” She offered Alyve a supportive smile. “But I know you will make the choice that will benefit everyone for the better… even if it means Celene must die.”

“If I’m being honest, I think I’m more inclined to trust you with the political advice.”

“Leliana has played the Game many times before to know different paths than the ones I’d take. And Cullen is merely thinking like the military commander that he is. They both have valid points. I _know_ you hate these sort of situations, darling, but we are running out of time.”

“I've noticed.”

“Do what you must. No matter what, we will support you. Now hurry.”

Alyve wished with every fiber of her being that she could kiss her in response, but she knew it would only hinder their efforts. She hoped that the look in her eyes told Josephine everything she was thinking. To her relief, Josephine covered her hand with her own and nodded once.

“I know,” she said softly.

“Please be safe,” Alyve said.

“You too.”

She let go of Josephine’s arm and vanished into the crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this is a little bare bones, but I sort of wanted to display Alyve's dynamic with other characters during this chapter. Especially since she's not comfortable in noble situations. I'll probably come back to it later and beef it up a bit, but the next chapter will be heavier in content.

**Author's Note:**

> Yup.
> 
> Kudos and comments are welcomed. Constructive criticism is also welcomed, as I am not as well-versed in the DA lore as I should be. Just be the kind of reader/commenter you'd want to have :) Anyway this is this and there is most likely more coming your way. I'm gonna be posting regardless.


End file.
